PRESTER  JOro 

JOHN  BUCHAN 


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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT  OF 

Estate  of 
Jean  Howard  McDuffie 


PRESTER  JOHN 

JOHN  BUCHAN 


BY  JOHN  BUCHAN 

Salute  to  Adventurers 
The  Battle  of  the  Somme 
Greenmantle 
The  Power  House 
The  Thirty-nine  Steps 


■■■I 


PRESTER  JOHN 


By  JOHN 
BUCHAN 


Illustrated  by 
HENRY  PITZ 


NewVork:  GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,     191O, 
BY   JOHN    BUCHAN 


PRESTER    JOHN 
PRINTED   IN    THE   UKITED   STATES   OF   AMERICA 


QWS 


P  7< 


TO 
LIONEL  PHILLIPS 

Time,  they  say,  must  best  of  us  capture, 

And  travel  and  battle  and  gems  and  gold 
No  more  can  kindle  the  ancient  rapture. 

For  even  the  youngest  of  hearts  grows  old. 
But  in  you,  I  think,  the  boy  is  not  over  j 

So  take  this  medley  of  ways  and  wars 
As  the  gift  of  a  friend  and  a  fellow-lover 

Of  the  fairest  country  under  the  stars. 


J.B. 


329 


NOTE 


The  reader  is  recommended  to  consult  the 
maf  opposite  fage  eleven  for  the  details  of 
the  various  journeys  of  Mr.  David  Crawfurd. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  '*''* 

I     The  Man  ON  THE  KiRKCAPLE  Shore  .      ...  11 

II     Furth!     Fortune! 25 

III     Blaauwildebeestefontein 42 

IV     My  Journey  to  the  Winter-veld     ....  54 

V     Mr.  Wardlaw  has  a  Premonition     ....  67 

VI     The  Drums  beat  at  Sunset 76 

VII     Captain  Arcoll  tells  a  Tale 88 

VIII       I     FALL     IN     AGAIN     WITH     THE     ReVEREND     JohN 

Laputa 106 

IX     The  Store  at  Umvelos'   .      .      .      .      .      .      .115 

X     I  GO  Treasure  hunting .      .  126 

XI     The  Cave  of  the  Rooirand  .      .      .     ,.     ■..      .134 

XII     Captain  Arcoll  sends  A  Message 145 

XIII     The  Drift  OF  the  Letaba 159 

XIV       I  CARRY  THE  CoLLAR  OF  PrESTER  JoHN       .         .         .  166 

XV     Morning  IN  THE  Berg 178 

XVI     Inanda's  Kraal 188 

XVII     A  Deal  and  its  Consequences 200 

XVIII     How  A  Man  may  sometimes  put  his  Trust  in  a 

Horse 213 

XIX     Arcoll's  Shepherding 221 

vii 


Vlll 

CHAPTER 


CONTENTS 


XX  My  Last  Sight  of  the  Reverend  John  Laputa  232 

XXI  I  CLIMB  THE  Crags  a  second  Time     ....  24-3 

XXII  A  GREAT  Peril  and  a  great  Salvation  .  255 

XXIII  My  Uncle's  Gift  is  many  Times  multiplied     .  266 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


I  HAD  A  GLIMPSE  OF  A  HUGE  FIGURE,  KNIFE  IN  HAND  . 

I  STALKED  OVER  TO   HIM  AND  TOOK  HIM    BY  THE  SHOULDER. 
"you  OLD  reprobate!"   I   ROARED 

I  STAGGERED  CRAZILY  TO  MY  FEET  AND  SHAMBLED  FORWARDS   . 

"well,  MR.  STOREKEEPER,"  HE  SAID,  "yOU  AND   I   HAVE  MET 
BEFORE    UNDER    PLEASANTER    CIRCUMSTANCES"     . 

MY    EYES    WERE    BANDAGED    TIGHT    AND    A    THONG    WAS    RUN 
AROUND  MY  RIGHT  WRIST  AND  TIED  TO  LAPUTA's  SADDLE- 


THERE  I  STOOD,  STRADDLING  LIKE  A  COLOSSUS  OVER  A  WASTE 
OF  WHITE  WATERS,  WITH  THE  CAVE  FLOOR  FAR  BELOW 
ME 


PAGE 

20 


68 
143 

152 
200 
250 


PRESTER  JOHN 


I* 


^oijF^ncL 


PRESTER  JOHN 

CHAPTER   I 

THE  MAN  ON  THE  KIRKCAPLE  SHORE 

I  MIND  as  if  it  were  yesterday  my  first  sight  of  the  man. 
Little  I  knew  at  the  time  how  big  the  moment  was  with 
destiny,  or  how  often  that  face  seen  in  the  fitful  moonlight 
would  haunt  my  sleep  and  disturb  my  waking  hours.  But 
I  mind  yet  the  cold  grue  of  terror  I  got  from  it,  a  terror  which 
was  surely  more  than  the  due  of  a  few  truant  lads  breaking 
the  Sabbath  with  their  play. 

The  town  of  Kirkcaple,  of  which  and  its  adjacent  parish 
of  Portincross  my  father  was  the  minister,  lies  on  a  hillside 
above  the  little  bay  of  Caple,  and  looks  squarely  out  on  the 
North  Sea.  Round  the  horns  of  land  which  enclose  the  bay 
the  coast  shows  on  either  side  a  battlement  of  stark  red  cliffs 
through  which  a  burn  or  two  makes  a  pass  to  the  water's 
edge.  The  bay  itself  is  ringed  with  fine  clean  sands,  where 
we  lads  of  the  burgh  school  loved  to  bathe  in  the  warm 
weather.  But  on  long  holidays  the  sport  was  to  go  farther 
afield  among  the  cliffs;  for  there  there  were  many  deep  caves 
and  pools,  where  podleys  might  be  caught  with  the  line,  and 
hid  treasures  sought  for  at  the  expense  of  the  skin  of  the 
knees  and  the  buttons  of  the  trousers.  Many  a  long  Saturday 
I  have  passed  in  a  crinkle  of  the  cliffs,  having  lit  a  fire  of 


12  PRESTER  JOHN 

driftwood,  and  made  believe  that  I  was  a  smuggler  or  a 
Jacobite  new  landed  from  France.  There  was  a  band  of  us  in 
Kirkcaple,  lads  of  my  own  age,  including  Archie  Leslie,  the 
son  of  my  father's  session-clerk,  and  Tam  Dyke,  the  provost's 
nephew.  We  were  sealed  to  silence  by  the  blood  oath,  and 
we  bore  each  the  name  of  some  historic  pirate  or  sailorman. 
I  was  Paul  Jones,  Tam  was  Captain  Kidd,  and  Archie,  need 
I  say  it,  was  Morgan  himself.  Our  tryst  was  a  cave  where 
a  little  water  called  the  Dyve  Burn  had  cut  its  way  through 
the  cliffs  to  the  sea.  There  we  forgathered  in  the  summer 
evenings  and  of  a  Saturday  afternoon  in  winter,  and  told 
mighty  tales  of  our  prowess  and  flattered  our  silly  hearts.  But 
the  sober  truth  is  that  our  deeds  were  of  the  humblest,  and 
a  dozen  of  fish  or  a  handful  of  apples  was  all  our  booty,  and 
our  greatest  exploit  a  fight  with  the  roughs  at  the  Dyve 
tan-work. 

My  father's  spring  Communion  fell  on  the  last  Sabbath 
of  April,  and  on  the  particular  Sabbath  of  which  I  speak 
the  weather  was  mild  and  bright  for  the  time  of  year.  I  had 
been  surfeited  with  the  Thursday's  and  Saturday's  services, 
and  the  two  long  diets  of  worship  on  the  Sabbath  were  hard 
for  a  lad  of  twelve  to  bear  with  the  spring  in  his  bones  and 
the  sun  slanting  through  the  gallery  window.  There  still 
remained  the  service  on  the  Sabbath  evening — a  doleful  pros- 
pect, for  the  Rev.  Mr.  Murdoch  of  Kilchristie,  noted  for 
the  length  of  his  discourses,  had  exchanged  pulpits  with  my 
father.  So  my  mind  was  ripe  for  the  proposal  of  Archie 
Leslie,  on  our  way  home  to  tea,  that  by  a  little  skill  we  might 
give  the  kirk  the  slip.  At  our  Communion  the  pews  were 
emptied  of  their  regular  occupants  and  the  congregation 


MAN  ON  KIRKCAPLE  SHORE  13 

seated  itself  as  it  pleased.  The  manse  seat  was  full  of  the 
Kirkcaple  relations  of  Mr.  Murdoch,  who  had  been  invited 
there  by  my  mother  to  hear  him,  and  it  was  not  hard  to  obtain 
permission  to  sit  with  Archie  and  Tarn  Dyke  in  the  cock-loft 
in  the  gallery.  Word  was  sent  to  Tarn,  and  so  it  happened 
that  three  abandoned  lads  duly  passed  the  plate  and  took  their 
seats  in  the  cock-loft.  But  when  the  bell  had  done  j  owing, 
and  we  heard  by  the  sounds  of  their  feet  that  the  elders  had 
gone  into  the  kirk,  we  slipped  down  the  stairs  and  out  of  the 
side  door.  We  were  through  the  churchyard  in  a  twinkling, 
and  hot-foot  on  the  road  to  the  Dyve  Burn. 

It  was  the  fashion  of  the  genteel  in  Kirkcaple  to  put  their 
boys  into  what  were  known  as  Eton  suits — long  trousers, 
cut-away  jackets,  and  chimney-pot  hats.  I  had  been  one  of 
the  earliest  victims,  and  well  I  remember  how  I  fled  home 
from  the  Sabbath  school  with  the  snowballs  of  the  town 
roughs  rattling  off  my  chimney-pot.  Archie  had  followed, 
his  family  being  in  all  things  imitators  of  mine.  We  were 
now  clothed  in  this  wearisome  garb,  so  our  first  care  was  to 
secrete  safely  our  hats  in  a  marked  spot  under  some  whin 
bushes  on  the  links.  Tam  was  free  from  the  bondage  of 
fashion,  and  wore  his  ordinary  best  knickerbockers.  From 
inside  his  jacket  he  unfolded  his  special  treasure,  which  was 
to  light  us  on  our  expedition — an  evil-smelling  old  tin  lan- 
tern with  a  shutter. 

Tam  was  of  the  Free  Kirk  persuasion,  and  as  his  Com- 
munion fell  on  a  different  day  from  ours,  he  was  spared  the 
bondage  of  church  attendance  from  which  Archie  and  I  had 
revolted.  But  notable  events  had  happened  that  day  in  his 
church.    A  black  man,  the  Rev.  John  Something-or-other, 


14  PRESTER  JOHN 

had  been  preaching.  Tarn  was  full  of  the  portent.  "A 
nigger,"  he  said,  "a  great  black  chap  as  big  as  your  father, 
Archie."  He  seemed  to  have  banged  the  bookboard  with 
some  effect,  and  had  kept  Tam,  for  once  in  his  life,  awake. 
He  had  preached  about  the  heathen  in  Africa,  and  how 
a  black  man  was  as  good  as  a  white  man  in  the  sight  of  God, 
and  he  had  forecast  a  day  when  the  negroes  would  have  some- 
thing to  teach  the  British  in  the  way  of  civilisation.  So  at 
any  rate  ran  the  account  of  Tam  Dyke,  who  did  not  share 
the  preacher's  views.  "It's  all  nonsense,  Davie.  The  Bible 
says  that  the  children  of  Ham  were  to  be  our  servants.  If  I 
were  the  minister  I  wouldn't  let  a  nigger  into  the  pulpit. 
I  wouldn't  let  him  farther  than  the  Sabbath  school." 

Night  fell  as  we  came  to  the  broomy  spaces  of  the  links, 
and  ere  we  had  breasted  the  slope  of  the  neck  which  sepa- 
rates Kirkcaple  Bay  from  the  cliffs  it  was  as  dark  as  an 
April  evening  with  a  full  moon  can  be.  Tam  would 
have  had  it  darker.  He  got  out  his  lantern,  and  after  a 
prodigious  waste  of  matches  kindled  the  candle-end  inside, 
turned  the  dark  shutter,  and  trotted  happily  on.  We  had 
no  need  of  his  lighting  till  the  Dyve  Burn  was  reached  and 
the  path  began  to  descend  steeply  through  the  rift  in  the 
crags. 

It  was  here  we  found  that  some  one  had  gone  before  us. 
Archie  was  great  in  those  days  at  tracking,  his  ambition 
running  in  Indian  paths.  He  would  walk  always  with  his 
head  bent  and  his  eyes  on  the  ground,  whereby  he  several 
times  found  lost  coins  and  once  a  trinket  dropped  by  the 
provost's  wife  At  the  edge  of  the  burn,  where  the  path 
turns  downward,  there  is  a  patch  of  shingle  washed  up  by 


MAN  ON  KIRKCAPLE  SHORE  15 

some  spate.  Archie  was  on  his  knees  in  a  second.  "Lads," 
he  cried,  "there's  spoor  here;"  and  then  after  some  nosing, 
"it's  a  man's  track,  going  downward,  a  big  man  with  flat  feet. 
It's  fresh,  too,  for  it  crosses  the  damp  bit  of  gravel,  and  the 
water  has  scarcely  filled  the  holes  yet." 

We  did  not  dare  to  question  Archie's  woodcraft,  but  it 
puzzled  us  who  the  stranger  could  be.  In  summer  weather 
you  might  find  a  party  of  picnickers  here,  attracted  by  the 
fine  hard  sands  at  the  burn  mouth.  But  at  this  time  of 
night  and  season  of  the  year  there  was  no  call  for  any  one 
to  be  trespassing  on  our  preserves.  No  fishermen  came  this 
way,  the  lobster-pots  being  all  to  the  east,  and  the  stark 
headland  of  the  Red  Neb  made  the  road  to  them  by  the 
water's  edge  difficult.  The  tan-work  lads  used  to  come  now 
and  then  for  a  swim,  but  you  would  not  find  a  tan-work  lad 
bathing  on  a  chill  April  night.  Yet  there  was  no  ques- 
tion where  our  precursor  had  gone.  He  was  making  for 
the  shore.  Tam  unshuttered  his  lantern,  and  the  steps  went 
clearly  down  the  corkscrew  path.  "Maybe  he  is  after  our 
cave.     We'd  better  go  cannily." 

The  glim  was  dowsed — the  words  were  Archie's — and 
in  the  best  contraband  manner  we  stole  down  the  gully. 
The  business  had  suddenly  taken  an  eerie  turn,  and  I  think 
in  our  hearts  we  were  all  a  little  afraid.  But  Tam  had  a 
lantern,  and  it  would  never  do  to  turn  back  from  an  adven- 
ture which  had  all  the  appearance  of  being  the  true  sort. 
Half-way  down  there  is  a  scrog  of  wood,  dwarf  alders  and 
hawthorn,  which  makes  an  arch  over  the  path.  I,  for  one, 
was  glad  when  we  got  through  this  with  no  worse  mishap 
than  a  stumble  from  Tam  which  caused  the  lantern  door 


16  PRESTER  JOHN 

to  fly  open  and  the  candle  to  go  out.  We  did  not  stop  to 
relight  it,  but  scrambled  down  the  screes  till  we  came  to 
the  long  slabs  of  reddish  rock  which  abutted  on  the  beach. 
We  could  not  see  the  track,  so  we  gave  up  the  business  of 
scouts,  and  dropped  quietly  over  the  big  boulder  and  into 
the  crinkle  of  cliff  which  we  called  our  cave. 

There  was  nobody  there,  so  we  relit  the  lantern  and  ex- 
amined our  properties.  Two  or  three  fishing-rods  for  the 
burn,  much  damaged  by  weather;  some  sea-lines  on  a  dry 
shelf  of  rock  J  a  couple  of  wooden  boxes;  a  pile  of  drift- 
wood for  fires,  and  a  heap  of  quartz  in  which  we  thought 
we  had  found  veins  of  gold — such  was  the  modest  fur- 
nishing of  our  den.  To  this  I  must  add  some  broken  clay 
pipes,  with  which  we  made  believe  to  imitate  our  elders, 
smoking  a  foul  mixture  of  coltsfoot  leaves  and  brown  paper. 
The  band  was  in  session,  so  following  our  ritual  we  sent  out 
a  picket.  Tarn  was  deputed  to  go  round  the  edge  of  the 
cliff  from  which  the  shore  was  visible,  and  report  if  the 
coast  was  clear. 

He  returned  in  three  minutes,  his  eyes  round  with  amaze- 
ment in  the  lantern  light.  "There's  a  fire  on  the  sands," 
he  repeated,  "and  a  man  beside  it." 

Here  was  news  indeed.  Without  a  word  we  made  for 
the  open,  Archie  first,  and  Tam,  who  had  seized  and  shut- 
tered his  lantern,  coming  last.  We  crawled  to  the  edge  of 
the  cliff  and  peered  round,  and  there  sure  enough  on  the 
hard  bit  of  sand  which  the  tide  had  left  by  the  burn  mouth 
was  a  twinkle  of  light  and  a  dark  figure. 

The  moon  was  rising,  and  besides  there  was  that  curious 
sheen  from  the  sea  which  you  will  often  notice  in  spring. 


MAN  ON  KIRKCAPLE  SHORE  17 

The  glow  was  maybe  a  hundred  yards  distant,  a  little  spark 
of  fire  I  could  have  put  in  my  cap,  and,  from  its  crackling 
and  smoke,  composed  of  dry  seaweed  and  half-green 
branches  from  the  burnside  thickets.  A  man's  figure  stood 
near  it,  and  as  we  looked  it  moved  round  and  round  the  fire 
in  circles  which  first  of  all  widened  and  then  contracted. 

The  sight  was  so  unexpected,  so  beyond  the  beat  of  our 
experience,  that  we  were  all  a  little  scared.  What  could 
this  strange  being  want  with  a  fire  at  half-past  eight  of  an 
April  Sabbath  night  on  the  Dyve  Burn  sands?  We  dis- 
cussed the  thing  in  whispers  behind  a  boulder,  but  none  of 
us  had  any  solution.  "Belike  he's  come  ashore  in  a  boat," 
said  Archie.  "He's  maybe  a  foreigner."  But  I  pointed 
out  that,  from  the  tracks  which  Archie  himself  had  found, 
the  man  must  have  come  overland  down  the  cliff's.  Tarn 
was  clear  he  was  a  madman,  and  was  for  withdrawing 
promptly  from  the  whole  business. 

But  some  spell  kept  our  feet  tied  there  in  that  silent  world 
of  sand  and  moon  and  sea.  I  remember  looking  back  and 
seeing  the  solemn,  frowning  faces  of  the  cliffs,  and  feeling 
somehow  shut  in  with  this  unknown  being  in  a  strange  union. 
What  kind  of  chance  had  brought  this  interloper  into  our 
territory?  For  a  wonder  I  was  less  afraid  than  curious. 
I  wanted  to  get  to  the  heart  of  the  matter,  and  to  discover 
what  the  man  was  up  to  with  his  fire  and  his  circles. 

The  same  thought  must  have  been  in  Archie's  head,  for 
he  dropped  on  his  belly  and  began  to  crawl  softly  seawards. 
I  followed,  and  Tarn,  with  sundry  complaints,  crept  after 
my  heels.  Between  the  cliffs  and  the  fire  lay  some  sixty 
yards  of  debris  and  boulders  above  the  level  of  all  but  the 


18  PRESTER  JOHN 

high  spring  tides.  Beyond  lay  a  string  of  seaweedy  pools 
and  then  the  hard  sands  of  the  burnfoot.  There  was  excel- 
lent cover  ampng  the  big  stones,  and  apart  from  the  distance 
and  the  dim  light,  the  man  by  the  fire  was  too  preoccupied 
in  his  task  to  keep  much  look-out  towards  the  land.  I 
remember  thinking  he  had  chosen  his  place  well,  for  save 
from  the  sea  he  could  not  be  seen.  The  cliffs  are  so  under- 
cut that  unless  a  watcher  on  the  coast  were  on  their  extreme 
edge  he  would  not  see  the  burnfoot  sands. 

Archie,  the  skilled  tracker,  was  the  one  who  all  but  be- 
trayed us.  His  knee  slipped  on  the  seaweed,  and  he  rolled 
off  a  boulder,  bringing  down  with  him  a  clatter  of  small 
stones.  We  lay  as  still  as  mice,  in  terrorl  lest  the  man 
should  have  heard  the  noise  and  have  come  to  look  for  the 
cause.  By  and  by  when  I  ventured  to  raise  my  head  above 
a  flat-topped  stone  I  saw  that  he  was  undisturbed.  The 
fire  still  burned,  and  he  was  pacing  round  it. 

Just  on  the  edge  of  the  pools  was  an  outcrop  of  red  sand- 
stone much  fissured  by  the  sea.  Here  was  an  excellent 
vantage-ground,  and  all  three  of  us  curled  behind  it,  with 
our  eyes  just  over  the  edge.  The  man  was  not  twenty  yards 
off,  and  I  could  see  clearly  what  manner  of  fellow  he  was. 
For  one  thing  he  was  huge  of  size,  or  so  he  seemed  to  me  in 
the  half-light.  He  wore  nothing  but  a  shirt  and  trousers, 
and  I  could  hear  by  the  flap  of  his  feet  on  the  sand  that  he 
was  barefoot. 

Suddenly  Tam  Dyke  gave  a  gasp  of  astonishment. 
"Gosh,  it's  the  black  minister!"  he  said. 

It  was  indeed  a  black  man,  as  we  saw  when  the  moon 
came  out  of  a  cloud.      His  head  was  on  his  breast,  and  he 


MAN  ON  KIRKCAPLE  SHORE  19 

walked  round  the  fire  with  measured,  regular  steps.  At 
intervals  he  would  stop  and  raise  both  hands  to  the  sky, 
and  bend  his  body  in  the  direction  of  the  moon.  But  he 
never  uttered  a  word. 

"It's  magic,"  said  Archie.  "He's  going  to  raise  Satan. 
We  must  bide  here  and  see  what  happens,  for  he'll  grip  us 
if  we  try  to  go  back.      The  moon's  ower  high." 

The  procession  continued  as  if  to  some  slow  music.  I 
had  been  in  no  fear  of  the  adventure  back  there  by  our  cave; 
but  now  that  I  saw  the  thing  from  close  at  hand,  my  cour- 
age began  to  ebb.  There  was  something  desperately  un- 
canny about  this  great  negro,  who  had  shed  his  clerical 
garments,  and  was  now  practising  some  strange  magic  alone 
by  the  sea.  I  had  no  doubt  it  was  the  black  art,  for  there 
was  that  in  the  air  and  the  scene  which  spelled  the  unlawful. 
As  we  watched,  the  circles  stopped,  and  the  man  threw  some- 
thing on  the  fire.  A  thick  smoke  rose  of  which  we  could 
feel  the  aromatic  scent,  and  when  it  was  gone  the  flame 
burned  with  a  silvery  blueness  like  moonlight.  Still  no 
sound  came  from  the  minister,  but  he  took  something  from 
his  belt,  and  began  to  make  odd  markings  in  the  sand  be- 
tween the  inner  circle  and  the  fire.  As  he  turned,  the  moon 
gleamed  on  the  implement,  and  we  saw  it  was  a  great  knife. 

We  were  now  scared  in  real  earnest.  Here  were  we,  three 
boys,  at  night  in  a  lonely  place  a  few  yards  from  a  great 
savage  with  a  knife.  The  adventure  was  far  past  my  lik- 
ing, and  even  the  intrepid  Archie  was  having  qualms,  if  I 
could  judge  from  his  set  face.  As  for  Tam,  his  teeth  were 
chattering  like  a  threshing-mill. 

Suddenly  I  felt  something  soft  and  warm  on  the  rock  at 


20  PRESTER  JOHN 

my  right  hand.  I  felt  again,  and,  lo!  it  was  the  man's 
clothes.  There  were  his  boots  and  socks,  his  minister's 
coat  and  his  minister's  hat. 

This  made  the  predicament  worse,  for  if  we  waited  till 
he  finished  his  rites  we  should  for  certain  be  found  by 
him.  At  the  same  time,  to  return  over  the  boulders  in  the 
bright  moonlight  seemed  an  equally  sure  way  to  discovery. 
I  whispered  to  Archie,  who  was  for  waiting  a  little  longer. 
"Something  may  turn  up,"  he  said.     It  was  always  his  way. 

I  do  not  know  what  would  have  turned  up,  for  we  had  no 
chance  of  testing  it.  The  situation  had  proved  too  much  for 
the  nerves  of  Tam  Dyke.  As  the  man  turned  towards  us 
in  his  bowings  and  bendings,  Tam  suddenly  sprang  to  his 
feet  and  shouted  at  him  a  piece  of  schoolboy  rudeness  then 
fashionable  in  Kirkcaple. 

"Wha  called  ye  partan-face,  my  bonny  man?" 

Then,  clutching  his  lantern,  he  ran  for  dear  life,  while 
Archie  and  I  raced  at  his  heels.  As  I  turned  I  had  a  glimpse 
of  a  huge  figure,  knife  in  hand,  bounding  towards  us. 

Though  I  only  saw  it  in  the  turn  of  a  head,  the  face 
stamped  itself  indelibly  upon  my  mind.  It  was  black,  black 
as  ebony,  but  it  was  different  from  the  ordinary  negro. 
There  were  no  thick  lips  and  flat  nostrils  j  rather,  if  I  could 
trust  my  eyes,  the  nose  was  high-bridged,  and  the  lines  of 
the  mouth  sharp  and  firm.  But  it  was  distorted  into  an 
expression  of  such  terror  and  devilish  fury  and  amazement 
that  my  heart  became  like  water. 

We  had  a  start,  as  I  have  said,  of  some  twenty  or  thirty 
yards.  Among  the  boulders  we  were  not  at  a  great  dis- 
advantage, for  a  boy  can  flit  quickly  over  them,  while  a 


I  HAD   A   (ilJMPSE   OF  A  HUGK  FIGUHK,    KN[FE   IN    HAM). 


MAN  ON  KIRKCAPLE  SHORE  21 

grown  man  must  pick  his  way.  Archie,  as  ever,  kept  his 
wits  the  best  of  us.  "Make  straight  for  the  burn,"  he 
shouted  in  a  hoarse  whisper;  "we'll  beat  him  on  the  slope." 

We  passed  the  boulders  and  slithered  over  the  outcrop  of 
red  rock  and  the  patches  of  sea-pink  till  we  reached  the  chan- 
nel of  the  Dyve  water,  which  flows  gently  among  pebbles 
after  leaving  the  gully.  Here  for  the  first  time  I  looked 
back  and  saw  nothing.  I  stopped  involuntarily,  and  that  halt 
was  nearly  my  undoing.  For  our  pursuer  had  reached  the 
burn  before  us,  but  lower  down,  and  was  coming  up  its  bank 
to  cut  us  off. 

At  most  times  I  am  a  notable  coward,  and  in  these  days 
I  was  still  more  of  one,  owing  to  a  quick  and  easily-heated 
imagination.  But  now  I  think  I  did  a  brave  thing,  though 
more  by  instinct  than  resolution.  Archie  was  running  first, 
and  had  already  splashed  through  the  burn;  Tam  came 
next,  just  about  to  cross,  and  the  black  man  was  almost  at 
his  elbow.  Another  second  and  Tam  would  have  been  in 
his  clutches  had  I  not  yelled  out  a  warning  and  made  straight 
up  the  bank  of  the  burn.  Tam  fell  into  the  pool — I  could 
hear  his  spluttering  cry — but  he  got  across;  for  I  heard 
Archie  call  to  him,  and  the  two  vanished  into  the  thicket 
which  clothes  all  the  left  bank  of  the  gully.  The  pursuer, 
seeing  me  on  his  own  side  of  the  water,  followed  straight 
on;  and  before  I  knew  it  had  become  a  race  between  the 
two  of  us. 

I  was  hideously  frightened,  but  not  without  hope,  for 
the  screes  and  shelves  of  this  right  side  of  the  gully  were 
known  to  me  from  many  a  day's  exploring.  I  was  light 
on  my  feet  and  uncommonly  sound  in  wind,  being  by  far 


22  PRESTER  JOHN 

the  best  long-distance  runner  in  Kirkcaple.  If  I  could 
only  keep  my  lead  till  I  reached  a  certain  corner  I  knew 
of,  I  could  outwit  my  enemy;  for  it  was  possible  from  that 
place  to  make  a  detour  behind  a  waterfall  and  get  into  a 
secret  path  of  ours  among  the  bushes.  I  flew  up  the  steep 
screes,  not  daring  to  look  round  j  but  at  the  top,  where  the 
rocks  begin,  I  had  a  glimpse  of  my  pursuer.  The  man 
could  run.  Heavy  in  build  though  he  was  he  was  not  six 
yards  behind  me,  and  I  could  see  the  white  of  his  eyes  and 
the  red  of  his  gums.  I  saw  something  else — a  glint  of 
white  metal  in  his  hand.     He  still  had  his  knife. 

Fear  sent  me  up  the  rocks  like  a  seagull,  and  I  scrambled 
and  leaped,  making  for  the  corner  I  knew  of.  Something 
told  me  that  the  pursuit  was  slackening,  and  for  a  moment 
I  halted  to  look  round.  A  second  time  a  halt  was  nearly 
the  end  of  me.  A  great  stone  flew  through  the  air,  and 
took  the  cliff  an  inch  from  my  head,  half-blinding  me  with 
splinters.  And  now  I  began  to  get  angry.  I  pulled  myself 
into  cover,  skirted  a  rock  till  I  came  to  my  corner,  and  looked 
back  for  the  enemy.  There  he  was  scrambling  by  the  way 
I  had  come,  and  making  a  prodigious  clatter  among  the 
stones.  I  picked  up  a  loose  bit  of  rock  and  hurled  it  with 
all  my  force  in  his  direction.  It  broke  before  it  reached 
him,  but  a  considerable  lump  to  my  joy  took  him  full  in 
the  face.  Then  my  terrors  revived,  I  slipped  behind  the 
waterfall  and  was  soon  in  the  thicket,  and  toiling  towards 
the  top. 

I  think  this  last  bit  was  the  worst  in  the  race,  for  my 
strength  was  failing,  and  I  seemed  to  hear  those  horrid  steps 
at  my  heels.      My  heart  was  in  my  mouth  as,  careless  of 


MAN  ON  KIRKCAPLE  SHORE  23 

my  best  clothes,  I  tore  through  the  hawthorn  bushes.  Then 
I  struck  the  path  and,  to  my  relief,  came  on  Archie  and 
Tam,  who  were  running  slowly  in  desperate  anxiety  about 
my  fate.  We  then  took  hands  and  soon  reached  the  top  of 
the  gully. 

For  a  second  we  looked  back.  The  pursuit  had  ceased, 
and  far  down  the  burn  we  could  hear  the  sounds  as  of  some 
one  going  back  to  the  sands. 

"Your  face  is  bleeding,  Davie.  Did  he  get  near  enough 
to  hit  you?''  Archie  asked. 

"He  hit  me  with  a  stone.  But  I  gave  him  better.  He's 
got  a  bleeding  nose  to  remember  this  night  by." 

We  did  not  dare  take  the  road  by  the  links,  but  made  for 
the  nearest  human  habitation.  This  was  a  farm  about  half 
a  mile  inland,  and  when  we  reached  it  we  lay  down  by  the 
stack-yard  gate  and  panted. 

"I've  lost  my  lantern,"  said  Tam.  "The  big  black  brute! 
See  if  I  don't  tell  my  father." 

"Ye'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Archie  fiercely. 
"He  knows  nothing  about  us  and  can't  do  us  any  harm.  But 
if  the  story  got  out  and  he  found  out  who  we  were,  he'd 
murder  the  lot  of  us." 

He  made  us  swear  secrecy,  which  we  were  willing  enough 
to  do,  seeing  very  clearly  the  sense  in  his  argument.  Then 
we  found  the  highroad  and  trotted  back  at  our  best  pace  to 
Kirkcaple,  fear  of  our  families  gradually  ousting  fear  of 
pursuit.  In  our  excitement  Archie  and  I  forgot  about  our 
Sabbath  hats,  reposing  quietly  below  a  whin  bush  on  the 
links. 

We  were  not  destined  to  escape  without  detection.     As  ill 


24  PRESTER  JOHN 

luck  would  have  it,  Mr.  Murdoch  had  been  taken  ill  with 
the  stomach-ache  after  the  second  psalm,  and  the  congrega- 
tion had  been  abruptly  dispersed  My  mother  had  waited  for 
me  at  the  church  door,  and,  seeing  no  signs  of  her  son, 
had  searched  the  gallery.  Then  the  truth  came  out,  and, 
had  I  been  only  for  a  mild  walk  on  the  links,  retribution 
would  have  overtaken  my  truantry.  But  to  add  to  this  I 
arrived  home  with  a  scratched  face,  no  hat,  and  several 
rents  in  my  best  trousers.  I  was  well  cuffed  and  sent  to  bed, 
with  the  promise  of  full-dress  chastisement  when  my  father 
should  come  home  in  the  morning. 

My  father  arrived  before  breakfast  next  day,  and  I  was 
duly  and  soundly  whipped.  I  set  out  for  school  with  aching 
bones  to  add  to  the  usual  depression  of  Monday  morning. 
At  the  corner  of  the  Nethergate  I  fell  in  with  Archie,  who 
was  staring  at  a  trap  carrying  two  men  which  was  coming 
down  the  street.  It  was  the  Free  Church  minister — he  had 
married  a  rich  wife  and  kept  a  horse — driving  the  preacher 
of  yesterday  to  the  railway  station.  Archie  and  I  were  in 
behind  a  doorpost  in  a  twinkling,  so  that  we  could  see  in 
safety  the  last  of  our  enemy.  He  was  dressed  in  minister's 
clothes,  with  a  heavy  fur-coat  and  a  brand  new  yellow- 
leather  Gladstone  bag.  He  was  talking  loudly  as  he  passed, 
and  the  Free  Church  minister  seemed  to  be  listening  atten- 
tively. I  heard  his  deep  voice  saying  something  about  the 
"work  of  God  in  this  place."  But  what  I  noticed  specially 
— and  the  sight  made  me  forget  my  aching  hinder  parts — 
was  that  he  had  a  swollen  eye,  and  two  strips  of  sticking- 
plaster  on  his  cheek. 


I 


CHAPTER  II 

furth!     fortune! 

In  this  plain  story  of  mine  there  will  be  so  many  wild  do- 
ings ere  the  end  is  reached  that  I  beg  my  reader's  assent 
to  a  prosaic  digression.  I  will  tell  briefly  the  things  which 
happened  between  my  sight  of  the  man  on  the  Kirkcaple 
sands  and  my  voyage  to  Africa. 

I  continued  for  three  years  at  the  burgh  school,  where 
my  progress  was  less  notable  in  my  studies  than  in  my  sports. 
One  by  one  I  saw  my  companions  pass  out  of  idle  boyhood 
and  be  set  to  professions.  Tam  Dyke  on  two  occasions  ran 
off  to  sea  in  the  Dutch  schooners  which  used  to  load  with 
coal  in  our  port  j  and  finally  his  father  gave  him  his  will,  and 
he  was  apprenticed  to  the  merchant  service.  Archie 
Leslie,  who  was  a  year  my  elder,  was  destined  for  the  law, 
so  he  left  Kirkcaple  for  an  Edinburgh  office,  where  he  was 
also  to  take  out  classes  at  the  college.  I  remained  on  at 
school  till  I  sat  alone  by  myself  in  the  highest  class — a  posi- 
tion of  little  dignity  and  deep  loneliness.  I  had  grown  a 
tall,  square-set  lad,  and  my  prowess  at  Rugby  football  was 
renowned  beyond  the  parishes  of  Kirkcaple  and  Portincross, 
To  my  father  I  fear  I  was  a  disappointment.  He  had 
hoped  for  something  in  his  son  more  bookish  and  sedentary, 
more  like  his  gentle,  studious  self. 

On  one  thing  I  was  determined:  I  should  follow  a  learned 

25 


26  PRESTER  JOHN 

profession.  The  fear  of  being  sent  to  an  office,  like  so 
many  of  my  schoolfellows,  inspired  me  to  the  little  progress 
I  ever  made  in  my  studies.  I  chose  the  ministry,  not,  I  fear, 
out  of  any  reverence  for  the  sacred  calling,  but  because  my 
father  had  follov^ed  it  before  me.  Accordingly  I  was  sent 
at  the  age  of  sixteen  for  a  year's  finishing  at  the  High 
School  of  Edinburgh,  and  the  following  winter  began  my 
Arts  course  at  the  university. 

If  Fate  had  been  kinder  to  me,  I  think  I  might  have  be- 
come a  scholar.  At  any  rate  I  was  just  acquiring  a  taste 
for  philosophy  and  the  dead  languages  when  my  father  died 
suddenly  of  a  paralytic  shock,  and  I  had  to  set  about  earn- 
ing a  living. 

My  mother  was  left  badly  off,  for  my  poor  father  had 
never  been  able  to  save  much  from  his  modest  stipend. 
When  all  things  were  settled,  it  turned  out  that  she  might 
reckon  on  an  income  of  about  fifty  pounds  a  year.  This  was 
not  enough  to  live  on,  however  modest  the  household,  and 
certainly  not  enough  to  pay  for  the  colleging  of  a  son.  At 
this  point  an  uncle  of  hers  stepped  forward  with  a  proposal. 
He  was  a  well-to-do  bachelor,  alone  in  the  world,  and  he 
invited  my  mother  to  live  with  him  and  take  care  of  his 
house.  For  myself  he  proposed  a  post  in  some  mercantile 
concern,  for  he  had  much  influence  in  the  circles  of  com- 
merce. There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  accept  gratefully. 
We  sold  our  few  household  goods,  and  moved  to  his  gloomy 
house  in  Dundas  Street.  A  few  days  later  he  announced 
at  dinner  that  he  had  found  for  me  a  chance  which  might 
lead  to  better  things. 

"You  see,  Davie,"  he  explained,  "you  don't  know  the  rudi- 


FURTH!     FORTUNE!  27 

ments  of  business  life.  There's  no  house  in  the  country 
that  would  take  you  in  except  as  a  common  clerk,  and  you 
would  never  earn  much  more  than  a  hundred  pounds  a  year 
all  your  days.  If  you  want  to  better  your  future  you  must 
go  abroad,  where  white  men  are  at  a  premium.  By  the 
mercy  of  Providence  I  met  yesterday  an  old  friend,  Thomas 
Mackenzie,  who  was  seeing  his  lawyer  about  an  estate  he 
is  bidding  for.  He  is  the  head  of  one  of  the  biggest  trading 
and  shipping  concerns  in  the  world — Mackenzie,  Mure, 
and  Oldmeadows — you  may  have  heard  the  name.  Among 
other  things  he  has  half  the  stores  in  South  Africa,  where 
they  sell  everything  from  Bibles  to  fish-hooks.  Apparently 
they  like  men  from  home  to  manage  the  stores,  and  to  make 
a  long  story  short,  when  I  put  your  case  to  him,  he  promised 
you  a  place.  I  had  a  wire  from  him  this  morning  confirm- 
ing the  offer.  You  are  to  be  assistant  storekeeper  at — "  (my 
uncle  fumbled  in  his  pocket,  and  then  read  from  the  yellow 
slip)  "at  Blaauwildebeestefontein.  There's  a  mouthful  for 
you." 

In  this  homely  way  I  first  heard  of  a  place  which  was 
to  be  the  theatre  of  so  many  strange  doings. 

"It's  a  fine  chance  for  you,"  my  uncle  continued.  "You'll 
only  be  assistant  at  first,  but  when  you  have  learned  your 
job  you'll  have  a  store  of  your  own.  Mackenzie's  people 
will  pay  you  three  hundred  pounds  a  year,  and  when  you 
get  a  store  you'll  get  a  percentage  on  sales.  It  lies  with  you 
to  open  up  new  trade  among  the  natives.  I  hear  that  Blaauw 
— something  or  other,  is  in  the  far  north  of  the  Transvaal, 
and  I  see  from  the  map  that  it  is  in  a  wild,  hilly  country. 
You  may  find  gold  or  diamonds  up  there,  and  come  back 


28  PRESTER  JOHN 

and  buy  up  Portincross  House."  My  uncle  rubbed  his 
hands  and  smiled  cheerily. 

Truth  to  tell  I  was  both  pleased  and  sad.  If  a  learned 
profession  was  denied  me  I  vastly  preferred  a  veld  store 
to  an  Edinburgh  office  stool.  Had  I  not  been  still  under 
the  shadow  of  my  father's  death  I  might  have  welcomed 
the  chance  of  new  lands  and  new  folk.  As  it  was,  I  felt 
the  loneliness  of  an  exile.  That  afternoon  I  walked  on  the 
Braid  Hills,  and  when  I  saw  in  the  clear  spring  sunlight 
the  coast  of  Fife,  and  remembered  Kirkcaple  and  my  boyish 
days,  I  could  have  found  it  in  me  to  sit  down  and  cry. 

A  fortnight  later  I  sailed.  My  mother  bade  me  a  tearful 
farewell,  and  my  uncle,  besides  buying  me  an  outfit  and 
paying  my  passage  money,  gave  me  a  present  of  twenty 
sovereigns.  "You'll  not  be  your  mother's  son,  Davie,"  were 
his  last  words,  "if  you  don't  come  home  with  it  multiplied 
by  a  thousand."  I  thought  at  the  time  that  I  would  give 
more  than  twenty  thousand  pounds  to  be  allowed  to  bide  on 
the  windy  shores  of  Furth. 

I  sailed  from  Southampton  by  an  intermediate  steamer, 
and  went  steerage  to  save  expense.  Happily  my  acute  home- 
sickness was  soon  forgotten  in  another  kind  of  malady.  It 
blew  half  a  gale  before  we  were  out  of  the  Channel,  and  by 
the  time  we  had  rounded  Ushant  it  was  as  dirty  weather  as 
ever  I  hope  to  see.  I  lay  mortal  sick  in  my  bunk,  unable 
to  bear  the  thought  of  food,  and  too  feeble  to  lift  my  head. 
I  wished  I  had  never  left  home,  but  so  acute  was  my  sick- 
ness that  if  some  one  had  there  and  then  offered  me  a  pas- 


FURTH!      FORTUNE!  29 

sage  back  or  an  immediate  landing  on  shore  I  should  have 
chosen  the  latter. 

It  was  not  till  we  got  into  the  fair-weather  seas  around 
Madeira  that  I  recovered  enough  to  sit  on  deck  and  observe 
my  fellow-passengers.  There  were  some  fifty  of  us  in  the 
steerage,  mostly  wives  and  children  going  to  join  relations, 
with  a  few  emigrant  artisans  and  farmers.  I  early  found  a 
friend  in  a  little  man  with  a  yellow  beard  and  spectacles, 
who  sat  down  beside  me  and  remarked  on  the  weather  in 
a  strong  Scotch  accent.  He  turned  out  to  be  a  Mr.  Ward- 
law  from  Aberdeen,  who  was  going  out  to  be  a  schoolmaster. 
He  was  a  man  of  good  education,  who  had  taken  a  university 
degree,  and  had  taught  for  some  years  as  an  under-master 
in  a  school  in  his  native  town.  But  the  east  winds  had  dam- 
aged his  lungs,  and  he  had  been  glad  to  take  the  chance  of 
a  poorly  paid  country  school  in  the  veld.  When  I  asked 
him  where  he  was  going  I  was  amazed  to  be  told, 
"Blaauwildebeestefontein." 

Mr.  Wardlaw  was  a  pleasant  little  man,  with  a  sharp 
tongue  but  a  cheerful  temper.  He  laboured  all  day  at 
primers  of  the  Dutch  and  Kaffir  tongues,  but  in  the  evening 
after  supper  he  would  walk  with  me  on  the  after-deck  and 
discuss  the  future.  Like  me,  he  knew  nothing  of  the  land 
he  was  going  to,  but  he  was  insatiably  curious,  and  he 
affected  me  with  his  interest.  "This  place,  Blaauwildebee- 
stefontein,"  he  used  to  say,  "is  among  the  Zoutpansberg 
mountains,  and  as  far  as  I  can  see,  not  above  ninety  miles 
from  the  railroad.  It  looks  from  the  map  a  well-watered 
country,  and  the  Agent-General  in  London  told  me  it  was 
healthy  or  I  wouldn't  have  taken  the  job.     It  seems  we'll 


30  PRESTER  JOHN 

be  in  the  heart  of  native  reserves  up  there,  for  here's  a  list  of 
chiefs — 'Mpefu,  Sikitola,  Majinje,  Magata;  and  there  are 
no  white  men  living  to  the  east  of  us  because  of  the  fever. 
The  name  means  the  ^spring  of  the  blue  wildebeeste,'  what- 
ever fearsome  animal  that  may  be.  It  sounds  like  a  place 
for  adventure,  Mr.  Crawfurd.  You'll  exploit  the  pockets 
of  the  black  men  and  Pll  see  what  I  can  do  with  their 
minds." 

There  was  another  steerage  passenger  whom  I  could  not 
help  observing  because  of  my  dislike  of  his  appearance. 
He,  too,  was  a  little  man,  by  name  Henriques,  and  in  looks 
the  most  atrocious  villain  I  have  ever  clapped  eyes  on.  He 
had  a  face  the  colour  of  French  mustard — a  sort  of  dirty 
green — and  bloodshot,  beady  eyes  with  the  whites  all  yel- 
lowed with  fever.  He  had  waxed  moustaches,  and  a  curi- 
ous, furtive  way  of  walking  and  looking  about  him.  We  of 
the  steerage  were  careless  in  our  dress,  but  he  was  always 
clad  in  immaculate  white  linen,  with  pointed,  yellow  shoes 
to  match  his  complexion.  He  spoke  to  no  one,  but  smoked 
long  cheroots  all  day  in  the  stern  of  the  ship,  and  studied 
a  greasy  pocket-book.  Once  I  tripped  over  him  in  the  dark, 
and  he  turned  on  me  with  a  snarl  and  an  oath.  I  was  short 
enough  with  him  in  return,  and  he  looked  as  if  he  could 
knife  me. 

"Pll  wager  that  fellow  has  been  a  slave-driver  in  his 
time,"  I  told  Mr  Wardlaw,  who  said,  "God  pity  his  slaves, 
then." 

And  now  I  come  to  the  incident  which  made  the  rest  of 
the  voyage  pass  all  too  soon  for  me,  and  foreshadowed  the 
strange  events  which  were  to  come.      It  was  the  day  after 


FURTH!     FORTUNE!  31 

we  crossed  the  Line,  and  the  first-class  passengers  were  hav- 
ing deck-sports.  A  tug-of-war  had  been  arranged  between 
the  three  classes,  and  a  half-dozen  of  the  heaviest  fellows 
in  the  steerage,  myself  included,  were  invited  to  join.  It 
was  a  blazing  hot  afternoon,  but  on  the  saloon  deck  there 
were  awnings  and  a  cool  wind  blowing  from  the  bows. 
The  first-class  beat  the  second  easily,  and  after  a  tremendous 
struggle  beat  the  steerage  also.  Then  they  regaled  us  with 
iced-drinks  and  cigars  to  celebrate  the  victory. 

I  was  standing  at  the  edge  of  the  crowd  of  spectators, 
when  my  eye  caught  a  figure  which  seemed  to  have  little 
interest  in  our  games.  A  large  man  in  clerical  clothes  was 
sitting  on  a  deck-chair  reading  a  book.  There  was  nothing 
novel  about  the  stranger,  and  I  cannot  explain  the  impulse 
which  made  me  wish  to  see  his  face.  I  moved  a  few  steps 
up  the  deck,  and  then  I  saw  that  his  skin  was  black.  I  went 
a  little  further,  and  suddenly  he  raised  his  eyes  from  his 
book  and  looked  around.  It  was  the  face  of  the  man  who 
had  terrified  me  years  ago  on  the  Kirkcaple  shore. 

I  spent  the  rest  of  the  day  in  a  brown  study.  It  was 
clear  to  me  that  some  destiny  had  prearranged  this  meeting. 
Here  was  this  man  travelling  prosperously  as  a  first-class 
passenger  with  all  the  appurtenances  of  respectability.  I 
alone  had  seen  him  invoking  strange  gods  in  the  moon- 
light. I  alone  knew  of  the  devilry  in  his  heart,  and  I 
could  not  but  believe  that  some  day  or  other  there  might 
be  virtue  in  that  knowledge. 

The  second  engineer  and  I  had  made  friends,  so  I  got 
him  to  consult  the  purser's  list  for  the  name  of  my  acquaint- 


32  PRESTER  JOHN 

ance.      He  was  down  as  the  Rev.  John  Laputa,  and  his 
destination  was  Durban. 

The  next  day  being  Sunday,  who  should  appear  to  address 
us  steerage  passengers  but  the  black  minister.  He  was  in- 
troduced by  the  captain  himself,  a  notably  pious  man,  who 
spoke  of  the  labours  of  his  brother  in  the  dark  places  of 
heathendom.  Some  of  us  were  hurt  in  our  pride  in  being 
made  the  target  of  a  black  man's  oratory.  Especially  Mr. 
Henriques,  whose  skin  spoke  of  the  tar-brush,  protested  with 
oaths  against  the  insult.  Finally  he  sat  down  on  a  coil  of 
rope,  and  spat  scornfully  in  the  vicinity  of  the  preacher. 

For  myself  I  was  intensely  curious,  and  not  a  little  im- 
pressed. The  man's  face  was  as  commanding  as  his  figure, 
and  his  voice  was  the  most  wonderful  thing  that  ever  came 
out  of  human  mouth.  It  was  full  and  rich  and  gentle,  with 
the  tones  of  a  great  organ.  He  had  none  of  the  squat  and 
preposterous  negro  lineaments,  but  a  hawk  nose  like  an 
Arab,  dark  flashing  eyes,  and  a  cruel  and  resolute  mouth. 
He  was  black  as  my  hat,  but  for  the  rest  he  might  have  sat 
for  a  figure  of  a  Crusader.  I  do  not  know  what  the  sermon 
was  about,  though  others  told  me  that  it  was  excellent. 
All  the  time  I  watched  him,  and  kept  saying  to  myself, 
"You  hunted  me  up  the  Dyve  Burn,  but  I  bashed  your  face 
for  you."  Indeed,  I  thought  I  could  see  faint  scars  on 
his  cheek. 

The  following  night  I  had  a  toothache,  and  could  not 
sleep.  It  was  too  hot  to  breathe  under  cover,  so  I  got  up,  lit  a 
pipe,  and  walked  on  the  after-deck  to  ease  the  pain.  The  air 
was  very  still,  save  for  the  whish  of  water  from  the  screws 


FURTH!      FORTUNE!  33 

and  the  steady  beat  of  the  engines.     Above,  a  great  yellow 
moon  looked  down  on  me,  and  a  host  of  pale  stars. 

The  moonlight  set  me  remembering  the  old  affair  of  the 
Dyve  Burn,  and  my  mind  began  to  run  on  the  Rev.  John 
Laputa.  It  pleased  me  to  think  that  I  was  on  the  track  of 
some  mystery  of  which  I  alone  had  the  clue.  I  promised 
myself  to  search  out  the  antecedents  of  the  minister  when  I 
got  to  Durban,  for  I  had  a  married  cousin  there,  who  might 
know  something  of  his  doings.  Then,  as  I  passed  by  the 
companionway  to  the  lower  deck,  I  heard  voices,  and  peep- 
ing over  the  rail,  I  saw  two  men  sitting  in  the  shadow  just 
beyond  the  hatch  of  the  hold. 

I  thought  they  might  be  two  of  the  sailors  seeking  cool- 
ness on  the  open  deck,  when  something  in  the  figure  of  one 
of  them  made  me  look  again.  The  next  second  I  had 
slipped  back  and  stolen  across  the  after-deck  to  a  point  just 
above  them.  For  the  two  were  the  black  minister  and  that 
ugly  yellow  villain,  Henriques. 

I  had  no  scruples  about  eavesdropping,  but  I  could  make 
nothing  of  their  talk.  They  spoke  low,  and  in  some  tongue 
which  may  have  been  Kaffir  or  Portuguese,  but  was  in  any 
case  unknown  to  me.  I  lay,  cramped  and  eager,  for  many 
minutes,  and  was  just  getting  sick  of  it  when  a  familiar  name 
caught  my  ear.  Henriques  said  something  in  which  I  caught 
the  word  "Blaauwildebeestefontein."  I  listened  intently, 
and  there  could  be  no  mistake.  The  minister  repeated  the 
name,  and  for  the  next  few  minutes  it  recurred  often  in  their 
talk.  I  went  back  stealthily  to  bed,  having  something  to 
make  me  forget  my  aching  tooth.     First  of  all,  Laputa  and 


34  PRESTER  JOHN 

Henriques  were  allies.  Second,  the  place  I  was  bound  for 
had  something  to  do  with  their  schemes. 

I  said  nothing  to  Mr.  Wardlaw,  but  spent  the  next  week 
in  the  assiduous  toil  of  the  amateur  detective.  I  procured 
some  maps  and  books  from  my  friend,  the  second  engineer, 
and  read  all  I  could  about  Blaauwildebeestefontein.  Not 
that  there  was  much  to  learn  5  but  I  remember  I  had  quite 
a  thrill  when  I  discovered  from  the  chart  of  the  ship's  run 
one  day  that  we  were  in  the  same  latitude  as  that  uncouthly- 
named  spot.  I  found  out  nothing,  however,  about  Hen- 
riques or  the  Rev.  John  Laputa.  The  Portuguese  still 
smoked  in  the  stern,  and  thumbed  his  greasy  notebook  j  the 
minister  sat  in  his  deck-chair,  and  read  heavy  volumes  from 
the  ship's  library.  Though  I  watched  every  night,  I  never 
found  them  again  together. 

At  Cape  Town  Henriques  went  ashore  and  did  not  return. 
The  minister  did  not  budge  from  the  ship  the  three  days 
we  lay  in  port,  and,  indeed,  it  seemed  to  me  that  ke  kept 
his  cabin.  At  any  rate  I  did  not  see  his  great  figure  on 
deck  till  we  were  tossing  in  the  choppy  seas  round  Cape 
Agulhas.  Sea-sickness  again  attacked  me,  and  with  short 
lulls  during  our  stoppages  at  Port  Elizabeth  and  East  Lon- 
don, I  lay  wretchedly  in  my  bunk  till  we  sighted  the  bluffs 
of  Durban  harbour. 

Here  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  change  my  ship,  for  in 
the  interests  of  economy  I  was  going  by  sea  to  Delagoa  Bay, 
and  thence  by  the  cheap  railway  journey  into  the  Transvaal. 
I  sought  out  my  cousin,  who  lived  in  a  fine  house  on  the 
Berea,  and  found  a  comfortable  lodging  for  the  three  days 
of  my  stay  there.      I  made  inquiries  about  Mr.  Laputa,  but 


FURTH!     FORTUNE!  35 

could  hear  nothing.  There  was  no  native  minister  of  that 
name,  said  my  cousin,  who  was  a  great  authority  on  all  native 
questions.  I  described  the  man,  but  got  no  further  light. 
No  one  had  seen  or  heard  of  such  a  being,  "unless,"  said 
my  cousin,  "he  is  one  of  those  American  Ethiopian  rascals." 

My  second  task  was  to  see  the  Durban  manager  of  the 
firm  which  I  had  undertaken  to  serve.  He  was  a  certain 
Mr.  Colles,  a  big  fat  man,  who  welcomed  me  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves, with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth.  He  received  me  pleas- 
antly, and  took  me  home  to  dinner  with  him. 

"Mr.  Mackenzie  has  written  about  you,"  he  said.  "Pll 
be  quite  frank  with  you,  Mr.  Crawford.  The  firm  is 
not  exactly  satisfied  about  the  way  business  has  been  going 
lately  at  Blaauwildebeestefontein.  There's  a  grand  coun- 
try up  there,  and  a  grand  opportunity  for  the  man  who  can 
take  it.  Japp,  who  is  in  charge,  is  an  old  man  now  and  past 
his  best,  but  he  has  been  long  with  the  firm,  and  we  don't 
want  to  hurt  his  feelings.  When  he  goes,  which  must  be 
pretty  soon,  you'll  have  a  good  chance  of  the  place,  if  you 
show  yourself  an  active  young  fellow." 

He  told  me  a  good  deal  more  about  Blaauwildebeestefon- 
tein, principally  trading  details.  Incidentally  he  let  drop 
that  Mr.  Japp  had  had  several  assistants  in  the  last  few  years. 
I  asked  him  why  they  had  left,  and  he  hesitated. 

"It's  a  lonely  place,  and  they  didn't  like  the  life.  You 
see,  there  are  few  white  men  near,  and  young  fellows  want 
society.  They  complained,  and  were  moved  on.  But  the 
firm  didn't  think  the  more  of  them." 

I  told  him  I  had  come  out  with  the  new  schoolmaster. 

"Yes,"   he  said  reflectively,   "the  school.      That's  been 


36  PRESTER  JOHN 

vacant  pretty  often  lately.  What  sort  of  fellow  is  this  Ward- 
law?      Will  he  stay,  I  wonder?" 

"From  all  accounts,''  I  said,  "Blaauwildebeestefontein 
does  not  seem  popular." 

"It  isn't.  That's  why  we've  got  you  out  from  home. 
The  colonial-born  doesn't  find  it  fit  in  with  his  idea  of  com- 
fort. He  wants  society,  and  he  doesn't  like  too  many  na- 
tives. There's  nothing  up  there  but  natives  and  a  few  black- 
veld  Dutchmen  with  native  blood  in  them.  You  fellows 
from  home  are  less  set  on  an  easy  life,  or  you  wouldn't 
be  here." 

There  was  something  in  Mr.  Colles's  tone  which  made  me 
risk  another  question. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  place?  There  must  be  more 
wrong  with  it  than  loneliness  to  make  everybody  clear  out. 
I  have  taken  on  this  job,  and  I  mean  to  stick  to  it,  so  you 
needn't  be  afraid  to  tell  me." 

The  manager  looked  at  me  sharply.  "That's  the  way 
to  talk,  my  lad.  You  look  as  if  you  had  a  stiff  back,  so  I'll 
be  frank  with  you.  There  is  something  about  the  place.  It 
gives  the  ordinary  man  the  jumps.  What  it  is,  I  don't 
know,  and  the  men  who  come  back  don't  know  themselves. 
I  want  you  to  find  out  for  me.  You'll  be  doing  the  firm 
an  enormous  service  if  you  can  get  on  the  track  of  it.  It 
may  be  the  natives,  or  it  may  be  the  taakhaars^  or  it  may  be 
something  else.  Only  old  Japp  can  stick  it  out,  and  he's 
too  old  and  doddering  to  care  about  moving.  I  want  you 
to  keep  your  eyes  skinned,  and  write  privately  to  me  if  you 
want  any  help.     You're  not  out  here  for  your  health,  I  can 


FURTH!     FORTUNE!  37 

see,  and  here's  a  chance  for  you  to  get  your  foot  on  the 
ladder. 

"Remember,  I'm  your  friend,"  he  said  to  me  again  at  the 
garden  gate.  "Take  my  advice  and  lie  very  low.  Don't 
talk,  don't  meddle  with  drink,  learn  all  you  can  of  the 
native  jabber,  but  don't  let  on  you  understand  a  word.  You're 
sure  to  get  on  the  track  of  something.  Good-bye,  my  boy," 
and  he  waved  a  fat  hand  to  me. 

That  night  I  embarked  on  a  cargo-boat  which  was  going 
round  the  coast  to  Delagoa  Bay.  It  is  a  small  world — at 
least  for  us  far-wandering  Scots.  For  who  should  I  find 
when  I  got  on  board  but  my  old  friend,  Tam  Dyke,  who 
was  second  mate  on  the  vessel?  We  wrung  each  other's 
hands,  and  I  answered,  as  best  I  could,  his  questions  about 
Kirkcaple.  I  had  supper  with  him  in  the  cabin,  and  went 
on  deck  to  see  the  moorings  cast. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  bustle  on  the  quay,  and  a  big  man 
with  a  handbag  forced  his  way  up  the  gangway.  The  men 
who  were  getting  ready  to  cast  off  tried  to  stop  him,  but  he 
elbowed  his  way  forward,  declaring  he  must  see  the  captain. 
Tam  went  up  to  him  and  asked  civilly  if  he  had  a  passage 
taken.  He  admitted  he  had  not,  but  said  he  would  make  it 
right  in  two  minutes  with  the  captain  himself.  The  Rev. 
John  Laputa,  for  some  reason  of  his  own,  was  leaving  Dur- 
ban with  more  haste  than  he  had  entered  it. 

I  do  not  know  what  passed  with  the  captain,  but  the 
minister  got  his  passage  right  enough,  and  Tam  was  even 
turned  out  of  his  cabin  to  make  room  for  him.  This  an- 
noyed my  friend  intensely. 

"That  black  brute  must  be  made  of  money,  for  he  paid 


38  PRESTER  JOHN 

through  the  nose  for  this,  or  Pm  a  Dutchman.  My  old 
man  doesn't  take  to  his  black  brethren  any  more  than  I  do. 
Hang  it  all,  what  are  we  coming  to,  when  we're  turning 
into  a  blooming  cargo-boat  for  niggers?" 

I  had  all  too  little  of  Tam's  good  company,  for  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  second  day  we  reached  the  little  town  of 
Lourengo  Marques.  This  was  my  final  landing  in  Africa, 
and  I  mind  how  eagerly  I  looked  at  the  low,  green  shores 
and  the  bush-covered  slopes  of  the  mainland.  We  were 
landed  from  boats  while  the  ship  lay  out  in  the  bay,  and  Tam 
came  ashore  with  me  to  spend  the  evening.  By  this  time 
I  had  lost  every  remnant  of  homesickness.  I  had  got  a  job 
before  me  which  promised  better  things  than  colleging  at 
Edinburgh,  and  I  was  as  keen  to  get  up  country  now  as  I 
had  been  loth  to  leave  England.  My  mind  being  full  of 
mysteries,  I  scanned  every  Portuguese  loafer  on  the  quay 
as  if  he  had  been  a  spy,  and  when  Tam  and  I  had  had  a 
bottle  of  Collares  in  a  cafe  I  felt  that  at  last  I  had  got  to 
foreign  parts  and  a  new  world. 

Tam  took  me  to  supper  with  a  friend  of  his,  a  Scot  by 
the  name  of  Aitken,  who  was  landing-agent  for  some  big 
mining  house  on  the  Rand.  He  hailed  from  Fife  and  gave 
me  a  hearty  welcome,  for  he  had  heard  my  father  preach 
in  his  young  days.  Aitken  was  a  strong,  broad-shouldered 
fellow  who  had  been  a  sergeant  in  the  Gordons  and  during 
the  war  he  had  done  secret-service  work  in  Delagoa.  He 
had  hunted,  too,  and  traded  up  and  down  Mozambique,  and 
knew  every  dialect  of  the  Kaffirs.  He  asked  me  where 
I  was  bound  for,  and  when  I  told  him  there  was  the  same 
look  in  his  eyes  as  I  had  seen  with  the  Durban  manager. 


FURTH!      FORTUNE!  39 

"You're  going  to  a  rum  place,  Mr.  Crawfurd,"  he  said. 

"So  Pm  told.  Do  you  know  anything  about  it?  You're 
not  the  first  who  has  looked  queer  when  Fve  spoken  the 
name." 

"Fve  never  been  there,"  he  said,  "though  Fve  been  pretty 
near  it  from  the  Portuguese  side.  That's  the  funny  thing 
about  Blaauwildebeestefontein.  Everybody  has  heard  of  it, 
and  nobody  knows  it." 

"I  wish  you  would  tell  me  what  you  have  heard." 

"Well,  the  natives  are  queer  up  thereaways.  There's 
some  kind  of  a  holy  place  which  every  Kaffir  from  Algoa 
Bay  to  the  Zambesi  and  away  beyond  knows  about.  When 
Fve  been  hunting  in  the  bush-veld  Fve  often  met  strings 
of  Kaffirs  from  hundreds  of  miles  distant,  and  they've  all 
been  going  or  coming  from  Blaauwildebeestefontein.  It's 
like  Mecca  to  the  Mohammedans,  a  place  they  go  to  on  pil- 
grimage. Fve  heard  of  an  old  man  up  there  who  is  be- 
lieved to  be  two  hundred  years  old.  Anyway  there's  some 
sort  of  great  witch  or  wizard  living  in  the  mountains." 

Aitken  smoked  in  silence  for  a  time;  then  he  said,  "Fll 
tell  you  another  thing.  I  believe  there's  a  diamond  mine. 
Fve  often  meant  to  go  up  and  look  for  it." 

Tam  and  I  pressed  him  to  explain,  which  he  did  slowly 
after  his  fashion. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  LD.B. — illicit  diamond  broking?" 
he  asked  me.  "Well,  it's  notorious  that  the  Kaffirs  on  the 
diamond  fields  get  away  with  a  fair  number  of  stones,  and 
they  are  bought  by  Jew  and  Portuguese  traders.  It's  against 
the  law  to  deal  in  them,  and  when  I  was  in  the  Intelligence 
here  we  used  to  have  a  lot  of  trouble  with  the  vermin.     But 


40  PRESTER  JOHN 

I  discovered  that  most  of  the  stones  came  from  natives  in 
one  part  of  the  country — more  or  less  round  Blaauwilde- 
beestefontein — and  I  see  no  reason  to  think  that  they  had 
all  been  stolen  from  Kimberley  or  the  Premier.  Indeed 
some  of  the  stones  I  got  hold  of  w^ere  quite  different  from 
any  I  had  seen  in  South  Africa  before.  I  shouldn't  wonder 
if  the  Kaffirs  in  the  Zoutpansberg  had  struck  some  rich  pipe, 
and  had  the  sense  to  keep  quiet  about  it.  Maybe  some  day 
ni  take  a  run  up  to  see  you  and  look  into  the  matter." 

After  this  the  talk  turned  on  other  topics  till  Tam,  still 
nursing  his  grievance,  asked  a  question  on  his  ovvrn  account. 

"Did  you  ever  come  across  a  great  big  native  parson  called 
Laputa?  He  came  on  board  as  we  were  leaving  Durban, 
and  I  had  to  turn  out  of  my  cabin  for  him."  Tam  de- 
scribed him  accurately  but  vindictively,  and  added  that  "he 
was  sure  he  was  up  to  no  good." 

Aitken  shook  his  head.  "No,  I  don't  know  the  man. 
You  say  he  landed  here?  Well,  Pll  keep  a  lookout  for  him. 
Big  native  parsons  are  not  so  common." 

Then  I  asked  about  Henriques,  of  whom  Tam  knew  noth- 
ing. I  described  his  face,  his  clothes,  and  his  habits. 
Aitken  laughed  uproariously. 

"Tut,  my  man,  most  of  the  subjects  of  his  Majesty  the 
King  of  Portugal  would  answer  to  that  description.  If  he's 
a  rascal,  as  you  think,  you  may  be  certain  he's  in  the  I.D.B. 
business,  and  if  I'm  right  about  Blaauwildebeestefontein 
you'll  likely  have  news  of  him  there  some  time  or  other. 
Drop  me  a  line  if  he  comes,  and  I'll  get  on  to  his  record." 

I  saw  Tam  off  in  the  boat  with  a  fairly  satisfied  mind.  I 
was  going  to  a  place  with  a  secret,  and  I  meant  to  find  it  out. 


FURTH!     FORTUNE!  41 

The  natives  round  Blaauwildebeestefontein  were  queer,  and 
diamonds  were  suspected  somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood. 
Henriques  had  something  to  do  with  the  place,  and  so  had 
the  Rev.  John  Laputa,  about  whom  I  knew  one  strange 
thing.  So  did  Tam,  by  the  way,  but  he  had  not  identified 
his  former  pursuer,  and  I  had  told  him  nothing.  I  was 
leaving  two  men  behind  me,  Colles  at  Durban  and  Aitken 
at  Lourengo  Marques,  who  would  help  me  if  trouble  came. 
Things  were  shaping  well  for  some  kind  of  adventure. 

The  talk  with  Aitken  had  given  Tam  an  inkling  of  my 
thoughts.  His  last  words  to  me  were  an  appeal  to  let  him 
know  if  there  was  any  fun  going. 

"I  can  see  you're  in  for  a  queer  job.  Promise  to  let  me 
hear  from  you  if  there's  going  to  be  a  row,  and  Pll  come  up 
country,  though  I  should  have  to  desert  the  service.  Send 
us  a  letter  to  the  agents  at  Durban  in  case  we  should  be  in 
port.     You  haven't  forgotten  the  Dyve  Burn,  Davie.? " 


CHAPTER  III 

BLAAUWILDEBEESTEFONTEIN 

The  "Pilgrim's  Progress"  had  been  the  Sabbath  reading  of 
my  boyhood,  and  as  I  came  in  sight  of  Blaauwildebeestefon- 
tein  a  passage  ran  in  my  head.  It  was  that  which  tells  how 
Christian  and  Hopeful,  after  many  perils  of  the  way,  came 
to  the  Delectable  Mountains,  from  which  they  had  a  prospect 
of  Canaan.  After  many  dusty  miles  by  rail,  and  a  weariful 
journey  in  a  Cape-cart  through  arid  plains  and  dry  and 
stony  gorges,  I  had  come  suddenly  into  a  haven  of  green. 
The  Spring  of  the  Blue  Wildebeeste  was  a  clear  rushing 
mountain  torrent,  which  swirled  over  blue  rocks  into  deep 
fern-fringed  pools.  All  around  was  a  tableland  of  lush  grass 
with  marigolds  and  arum  lilies  instead  of  daisies  and  butter- 
cups. Thickets  of  tall  trees  dotted  the  hill  slopes  and 
patched  the  meadows  as  if  some  landscape-gardener  had  been 
at  work  on  them.  Beyond,  the  glen  fell  steeply  to  the 
plains,  which  ran  out  in  a  faint  haze  to  the  horizon.  To 
north  and  south  I  marked  the  sweep  of  the  Berg,  now  rising 
high  to  a  rocky  peak  and  now  stretching  in  a  level  rampart 
of  blue.  On  the  very  edge  of  the  plateau  where  the  road 
dipped  for  the  descent  stood  the  shanties  of  Blaauwilde- 
beestefontein.  The  fresh  hill  air  had  exhilarated  my  mind, 
and  the  aromatic  scent  of  the  evening  gave  the  last  touch 
of  intoxication.    Whatever  serpent  might  lurk  in  it,  it  was  a 

veritable  Eden  I  had  come  to. 

42 


BLAAUWILDEBEESTEFONTEIN  43 

Blaauwildebeestefontein  had  no  more  than  two  buildings 
of  civiHzed  shape;  the  store,  which  stood  on  the  left  side 
of  the  river,  and  the  schoolhouse  opposite.  For  the  rest, 
there  were  some  twenty  native  huts,  higher  up  the  slope,  of 
the  type  which  the  Dutch  call  rondavels.  The  schoolhouse 
had  a  pretty  garden,  but  the  store  stood  bare  in  a  pitch  of 
dust  with  a  few  outhouses  and  sheds  beside  it.  Round  the 
door  lay  a  few  old  ploughs  and  empty  barrels,  and  beneath 
a  solitary  blue  gum  was  a  wooden  bench  with  a  rough  table. 
Native  children  played  in  the  dust,  and  an  old  Kaffir  squatted 
by  the  wall. 

My  few  belongings  were  soon  lifted  from  the  Cape-cart, 
and  I  entered  the  shop.  It  was  the  ordinary  pattern  of  up- 
country  store — a  bar  in  one  corner  with  an  array  of  bottles, 
and  all  round  the  walls  tins  of  canned  food  and  the  odds  and 
ends  of  trade.  The  place  was  empty,  and  a  cloud  of  flies 
buzzed  over  the  sugar  cask. 

Two  doors  opened  at  the  back,  and  I  chose  the  one  to  the 
right.  I  found  myself  in  a  kind  of  kitchen  with  a  bed  in  one 
corner,  and  a  litter  of  dirty  plates  on  the  table.  On  the 
bed  lay  a  man,  snoring  heavily.  I  went  close  to  him,  and 
found  an  old  fellow  with  a  bald  head,  clothed  only  in  a  shirt 
and  trousers.  His  face  was  red  and  swollen,  and  his  breath 
came  in  heavy  grunts.  A  smell  of  bad  whisky  hung  over 
everything.  I  had  no  doubt  that  this  was  Mr.  Peter  Japp, 
my  senior  in  the  store.  One  reason  for  the  indifferent  trade 
at  Blaauwildebeestefontein  was  very  clear  to  me:  the  store- 
keeper was  a  sot. 

I  went  back  to  the  shop  and  tried  the  other  door.  It  was 
a  bedroom  too,  but  clean  and  pleasant.     A  little  native  girl 


44  PRESTER  JOHN 

— Zeeta,  I  found  they  called  her — was  busy  tidying  it  up, 
and  when  I  entered  she  dropped  me  a  curtsy.  "This  is  your 
room,  Baas,"  she  said  in  very  good  English  in  reply  to  my 
question.  The  child  had  been  well  trained  somewhere,  for 
there  was  a  cracked  dish  full  of  oleander  blossoms  on  the 
drawers'-head,  and  the  pillow-slips  on  the  bed  were  as  clean 
as  I  could  wish.  She  brought  me  water  to  wash,  and  a  cup 
of  strong  tea,  while  I  carried  my  baggage  indoors  and  paid 
the  driver  of  the  cart.  Then,  having  cleaned  myself  and 
lit  a  pipe,  I  walked  across  the  road  to  see  Mr.  Wardlaw. 

I  found  the  schoolmaster  sitting  under  his  own  figtree 
reading  one  of  his  Kaffir  primers.  Having  come  direct  by 
rail  from  Cape  Town,  he  had  been  a  week  in  the  place,  and 
ranked  as  the  second  oldest  white  resident. 

"Yon's  a  bonny  chief  you've  got,  Davie,"  were  his  first 
words.     "For  three  days  he's  been  as  fou  as  the  Baltic." 

I  cannot  pretend  that  the  misdeeds  of  Mr.  Japp  greatly 
annoyed  me.  I  had  the  reversion  of  his  job,  and  if  he  chose 
to  play  the  fool  it  was  all  in  my  interest.  But  the  school- 
master was  depressed  at  the  prospect  of  such  company. 
"Besides  you  and  me,  he's  the  only  white  man  in  the  place. 
It's  a  poor  lookout  on  the  social  side." 

The  school,  it  appeared,  was  the  merest  farce.  There 
were  only  five  white  children,  belonging  to  Dutch  farmers 
in  the  mountains.  The  native  side  was  more  flourishing, 
but  the  mission  schools  in  the  locations  got  most  of  the  native 
children  in  the  neighbourhood.  Mr.  Wardlaw's  educational 
zeal  ran  high.  He  talked  of  establishing  a  workshop  and 
teaching  carpentry  and  blacksmith's  work,  of  which  he  knew 
nothing.      He  rhapsodised  over  the  intelligence  of  his  pupils 


BLAAUWILDEBEESTEFONTEIN  45 

and  bemoaned  his  inadequate  gift  of  tongues.  "You  and  I, 
Davie,"  he  said,  "must  sit  down  and  grind  at  the  business. 
It  is  to  the  interest  of  both  of  us.  The  Dutch  is  easy  enough. 
It's  a  sort  of  kitchen  dialect  you  can  learn  in  a  fortnight. 
But  these  native  languages  are  a  stiff  job.  Sesuto  is  the 
chief  hereabouts,  and  Pm  told  once  youVe  got  that  it's  easy 
to  get  Zulu.  Then  there's  the  thing  the  Shangaans  speak — 
Baronga,  I  think  they  call  it.  I've  got  a  Christian  Kaffir 
living  up  in  one  of  the  huts  who  comes  every  morning  to 
talk  to  me  for  an  hour.     You'd  better  join  me." 

I  promised,  and  in  the  sweet-smelling  dust  crossed  the 
road  to  the  store.  Japp  was  still  sleeping,  so  I  got  a  bowl 
of  mealie  porridge  from  Zeeta  and  went  to  bed. 


Japp  was  sober  next  morning  and  made  me  some  kind 
of  apology.  He  had  chronic  lumbago,  he  said,  and  "to 
go  on  the  bust"  now  and  then  was  the  best  cure  for  it.  Then 
he  proceeded  to  initiate  me  into  my  duties  in  a  tone  of  exag- 
gerated friendliness.  "I  took  a  fancy  to  you  the  first  time 
I  clapped  eyes  on  you,"  he  said.  "You  and  me  will  be  good 
friends,  Crawfurd,  I  can  see  that.  You're  a  spirited  young 
fellow,  and  you'll  stand  no  nonsense.  The  Dutch  about 
here  are  a  slim  lot,  and  the  Kaffirs  are  slimmer.  Trust  no 
man,  that's  my  motto.  The  firm  know  that,  and  I've  had 
their  confidence  for  forty  years." 

The  first  day  or  two  things  went  well  enough.  There 
was  no  doubt  that,  properly  handled,  a  fine  trade  could  be 
done  in  Blaauwildebeestefontein.  The  countryside  was 
crawling  with  natives,  and  great  strings  used  to  come  through 


46  PRESTER  JOHN 

from  Shangaan  territory  on  the  way  to  the  Rand  mines. 
Besides,  there  was  business  to  be  done  with  the  Dutch  farm- 
ers, especially  with  the  tobacco,  which  I  foresaw  could  be 
worked  up  into  a  profitable  export.  There  was  no  lack  of 
money  either,  and  we  had  to  give  very  little  credit,  though 
it  was  often  asked  for.  I  flung  myself  into  the  work,  and 
in  a  few  weeks  had  been  all  round  the  farms  and  locations. 
At  first  Japp  praised  my  energy,  for  it  left  him  plenty  of 
leisure  to  sit  indoors  and  drink.  But  soon  he  grew  suspi- 
cious, for  he  must  have  seen  that  I  was  in  a  fair  way  to  oust 
him  altogether.  He  was  very  anxious  to  know  if  I  had  seen 
Colles  in  Durban,  and  what  the  manager  had  said.  "I  have 
letters,'^  he  told  me  a  hundred  times,  "from  Mr.  Mackenzie 
himself  praising  me  up  to  the  skies.  The  firm  couldn't  get 
along  without  old  Peter  Japp,  I  can  tell  you."  I  had  no 
wish  to  quarrel  with  the  old  man,  so  I  listened  politely  to 
all  he  said.  But  this  did  not  propitiate  him,  and  I  soon 
found  him  so  jealous  as  to  be  a  nuisance.  He  was  Colonial- 
born  and  was  always  airing  the  fact.  He  rejoiced  in  my 
rawness,  and  when  I  made  a  blunder  would  crow  over  it 
for  hours.  "It's  no  good,  Mr.  Crawfurdj  you  new  chums 
from  England  may  think  yourselves  mighty  clever,  but  we 
men  from  the  old  Colony  can  get  ahead  of  you  every  time. 
In  fifty  years  you'll  maybe  learn  a  little  about  the  country, 
but  we  know  all  about  it  before  we  start."  He  roared  with 
laughter  at  my  way  of  tying  a  voorslagy  and  he  made  merry 
(no  doubt  with  reason)  on  my  management  of  a  horse.  I 
kept  my  temper  pretty  well,  but  I  own  there  were  moments 
when  I  came  near  to  kicking  Mr.  Japp. 

The  truth  is  he  was  a  disgusting  old  ruffian.      His  char- 


BLAAUWILDEBEESTEFONTEIN  47 

acter  was  shown  by  his  treatment  of  Zeeta.  The  poor  child 
slaved  all  day  and  did  two  men's  work  in  keeping  the  house- 
hold going.  She  was  an  orphan  from  a  mission  station, 
and  in  Japp's  opinion  a  creature  without  rights.  Hence  he 
never  spoke  to  her  except  with  a  curse,  and  used  to  cuff  her 
thin  shoulders  till  my  blood  boiled.  One  day  things  became 
too  much  for  my  temper.  Zeeta  had  spilled  half  a  glass 
of  Japp's  whiskey  while  tidying  up  the  room.  He  picked 
up  a  sjambok,  and  proceeded  to  beat  her  unmercifully  till 
her  cries  brought  me  on  the  scene.  I  tore  the  whip  from 
his  hands,  seized  him  by  the  scruff  and  flung  him  on  a  heap 
of  potato  sacks,  where  he  lay  pouring  out  abuse  and  shaking 
with  rage.  Then  I  spoke  my  mind.  I  told  him  that  if 
anything  of  the  sort  happened  again  I  would  report  it  at 
once  to  Mr.  Colles  at  Durban.  I  added  that  before  mak- 
ing my  report  I  would  beat  him  within  an  inch  of  his  de- 
graded life.  After  a  time  he  apologised,  but  I  could  see 
that  henceforth  he  regarded  me  with  deadly  hatred. 

There  was  another  thing  I  noticed  about  Mr.  Japp.  He 
might  brag  about  his  knowledge  of  how  to  deal  with  natives, 
but  to  my  mind  his  methods  were  a  disgrace  to  a  white  man. 
Zeeta  came  in  for  oaths  and  blows,  but  there  were  other 
Kaffirs  whom  he  treated  with  a  sort  of  cringing  friendliness. 
A  big  black  fellow  would  swagger  into  the  shop,  and  be 
received  by  Japp  as  if  he  were  his  long-lost  brother.  The 
two  would  collogue  for  hours;  and  though  at  first  I  did  not 
understand  the  tongue,  I  could  see  that  it  was  the  white 
man  who  fawned  and  the  black  man  who  bullied.  Once 
when  Japp  was  away  one  of  these  fellows  came  into  the 
store  as  if  it  belonged  to  him,  but  he  went  out  quicker  than 


48  PRESTER  JOHN 

he  entered.  Japp  complained  afterwards  of  my  behaviour. 
"  'Mwanga  is  a  good  friend  of  mine,"  he  said,  "and  brings 
us  a  lot  of  business.  PU  thank  you  to  be  civil  to  him  the 
next  time."  I  replied  very  shortly  that  'Mwanga  or  any- 
body else  who  did  not  mend  his  manners  would  feel  the 
weight  of  my  boot. 

The  thing  went  on,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  he  did  not 
give  the  Kaffirs  drink  on  the  sly.  At  any  rate,  I  have  seen 
some  very  drunk  natives  on  the  road  between  the  locations 
and  Blaauwildebeestefontein,  and  some  of  them  I  recog- 
nised as  Japp's  friends.  I  discussed  the  matter  with  Mr. 
Wardlaw,  who  said,  "I  believe  the  old  villain  has  got  some 
sort  of  black  secret,  and  the  natives  know  it,  and  have  got 
a  pull  on  him."     And  I  was  inclined  to  think  he  was  right. 

By  and  by  I  began  to  feel  the  lack  of  company,  for 
Wardlaw  was  so  full  of  his  books  that  he  was  of  little  use 
as  a  companion.  So  I  resolved  to  acquire  a  dog,  and  bought 
one  from  a  prospector,  who  was  stony  broke  and  would  have 
sold  his  soul  for  a  drink.  It  was  an  enormous  Boer  hunting- 
dog,  a  mongrel  in  whose  blood  ran  mastiff  and  bulldog  and 
foxhound,  and  Heaven  knows  what  besides.  In  colour  it 
was  a  kind  of  brindled  red,  and  the  hair  on  its  back  grew 
against  the  lie  of  the  rest  of  its  coat.  Some  one  had  told 
me,  or  I  may  have  read  it,  that  a  back  like  this  meant  that 
a  dog  would  face  anything  mortal,  even  to  a  charging  lion, 
and  it  was  this  feature  which  first  caught  my  fancy.  The 
price  I  paid  was  ten  shillings  and  a  pair  of  boots,  which  I  got 
at  cost  price  from  stock,  and  the  owner  departed  with  injunc- 
tions to  me  to  beware  of  the  brute's  temper.     Colin — for 


BLAAUWILDEBEESTEFONTEIN  49 

so  I  named  him — began  his  career  with  me  by  taking  the 
seat  out  of  my  breeches  and  frightening  Mr.  Wardlaw  into 
a  tree.  It  took  me  a  stubborn  battle  of  a  fortnight  to  break 
his  vice,  and  my  left  arm  today  bears  witness  to  the  strug- 
gle. After  that  he  became  a  second  shadow,  and  woe  betide 
the  man  who  had  dared  to  raise  his  hand  to  Colin's  master. 
Japp  declared  that  the  dog  was  a  devil,  and  Colin  repaid 
the  compliment  with  a  hearty  dislike. 

With  Colin,  I  now  took  to  spending  some  of  my  ample 
leisure  in  exploring  the  fastnesses  of  the  Berg.  I  had 
brought  out  a  shotgun  of  my  own,  and  I  borrowed  a  cheap 
Mauser  sporting  rifle  from  the  store.  I  had  been  born 
with  a  good  eye  and  a  steady  hand,  and  very  soon  I  became 
a  fair  shot  with  a  gun  and,  I  believe,  a  really  fine  shot  with 
the  rifle.  The  sides  of  the  Berg  were  full  of  quail  and  part- 
ridge and  bush  pheasant,  and  on  the  grassy  plateau  there  was 
abundance  of  a  bird  not  unlike  our  own  blackcock,  which 
the  Dutch  called  korhaan.  But  the  great  sport  was  to  stalk 
bush-buck  in  the  thickets,  which  is  a  game  in  which  the 
hunter  is  at  small  advantage.  I  have  been  knocked  down 
by  a  wounded  bush-buck  ram,  and  but  for  Colin  might  have 
been  badly  damaged.  Once,  in  a  kloof  not  far  from  the 
Letaba,  I  killed  a  fine  leopard,  bringing  him  down  with  a 
single  shot  from  a  rocky  shelf  almost  on  the  top  of  Colin. 
His  skin  lies  by  my  fireside  as  I  write  this  tale.  But  it  was 
during  the  days  I  could  spare  for  an  expedition  into  the 
plains  that  I  proved  the  great  qualities  of  my  dog.  There 
we  had  nobler  game  to  follow — wildebeest  and  hartebeest, 
impala,  and  now  and  then  a  koodoo.  At  first  I  was  a  com- 
plete duffer,  and  shamed  myself  in  Colin's  eyes.     But  by 


50  PRESTER  JOHN 

and  by  I  learned  something  of  veld-craft:  I  learned  how 
to  follow  spoor,  how  to  allow  for  the  wind,  and  stalk  under 
cover.  Then,  when  a  shot  had  crippled  the  beast,  Colin  was 
on  its  track  like  a  flash  to  pull  it  down.  The  dog  had  the 
nose  of  a  retriever,  the  speed  of  a  greyhound,  and  the 
strength  of  a  bull  terrier.  I  blessed  the  day  when  the  wan- 
dering prospector  had  passed  the  store. 

Colin  slept  at  night  at  the  foot  of  my  bed,  and  it  was  he 
who  led  me  to  make  an  important  discovery  j  for  I  now  be- 
came aware  that  I  was  being  subjected  to  constant  espionage. 
It  may  have  been  going  on  from  the  start,  but  it  was  not  till 
my  third  month  at  Blaauwildebeestefontein  that  I  found 
it  out.  One  night  I  was  going  to  bed,  when  suddenly  the 
bristles  rose  on  the  dog's  back  and  he  barked  uneasily  at  the 
window.  I  had  been  standing  in  the  shadow,  and  as  I 
stepped  to  the  window  to  look  out  I  saw  a  black  face  disap- 
pear below  the  palisade  of  the  backyard.  The  incident  was 
trifling,  but  it  put  me  on  my  guard.  The  next  night  I 
looked,  but  saw  nothing.  The  third  night  I  looked,  and 
caught  a  glimpse  of  a  face  almost  pressed  to  the  pane. 
Thereafter  I  put  up  the  shutters  after  dark,  and  shifted  my 
bed  to  a  part  of  the  room  out  of  line  with  the  window. 

It  was  the  same  out  of  doors.  I  would  suddenly  be  con- 
scious, as  I  walked  on  the  road,  that  I  was  being  watched. 
If  I  made  as  if  to  walk  into  the  roadside  bush  there  would 
be  a  faint  rustling,  which  told  that  the  watcher  had 
retired.  The  stalking  was  brilliantly  done,  for  I  never 
caught  a  glimpse  of  one  of  the  stalkers.  Wherever  I  went 
— on  the  road,  on  the  meadows  of  the  plateau,  or  on  the 
rugged  sides  of  the  Berg — it  was  the  same.      I  had  silent 


BLA  AUWILDEBEESTEFONTEIN  5 1 

followers,  who  betrayed  themselves  now  and  then  by  the 
crackling  of  a  branch,  and  eyes  were  always  looking  at  me 
which  I  could  not  see.  Only  when  I  went  down  to  the 
plains  did  the  espionage  cease.  This  thing  annoyed  Colin 
desperately,  and  his  walks  abroad  were  one  continuous 
growl.  Once,  in  spite  of  my  efforts,  he  dashed  into  the 
thicket,  and  a  squeal  of  pain  followed.  He  had  got  some- 
body by  the  leg,  and  there  was  blood  on  the  grass. 

Since  I  came  to  Blaauwildebeestefontein  I  had  forgotten 
the  mystery  I  had  set  out  to  track  in  the  excitement  of  a  new 
life  and  my  sordid  contest  with  Japp.  But  now  this  espion- 
age brought  back  my  old  preoccupation.  I  was  being 
watched  because  some  person  or  persons  thought  I  was  dan- 
gerous. My  suspicions  fastened  on  Japp,  but  I  soon  gave 
up  that  clue.  It  was  my  presence  in  the  store  that  was  a 
danger  to  him,  not  my  wanderings  about  the  countryside.  It 
might  be  that  he  had  engineered  the  espionage  so  as  to  drive 
me  out  of  the  place  in  sheer  annoyance;  but  I  flattered  my- 
self that  Mr.  Japp  knew  me  too  well  to  imagine  that  such 
a  game  was  likely  to  succeed. 

The  mischief  was  that  I  could  not  make  out  who  the 
trackers  were.  I  had  visited  all  the  surrounding  locations, 
and  was  on  good  enough  terms  with  all  the  chiefs.  There 
was  'Mpefu,  a  dingy  old  fellow  who  had  spent  a  good  deal 
of  his  life  in  a  Boer  gaol  before  the  war.  There  was  a 
mission  station  at  his  place,  and  his  people  seemed  to  me  to 
be  well  behaved  and  prosperous.  Majinje  was  a  chief- 
tainess,  a  little  girl  whom  nobody  was  allowed  to  see.  Her 
location  was  a  miserable  affair,  and  her  tribe  was  yearly 
shrinking  in  numbers.     Then  there  was   Magata   further 


52  PRESTER  JOHN 

north  among  the  mountains.  He  had  no  quarrel  with  me, 
for  he  used  to  give  me  a  meal  when  I  went  out  hunting  in 
that  direction;  and  once  he  turned  out  a  hundred  of  his  young 
men,  and  I  had  a  great  battue  of  wild  dogs.  Sikitola,  the 
biggest  of  all,  lived  some  distance  out  in  the  flats.  I  knew 
less  about  himj  but  if  his  men  were  the  trackers,  they  must 
have  spent  most  of  their  days  a  weary  way  from  their  kraal. 
The  Kaffirs  in  the  huts  at  Blaauwildbeestefontein  were 
mostly  Christian,  and  quiet,  decent  fellows,  who  farmed 
their  little  gardens,  and  certainly  preferred  me  to  Japp. 
I  thought  at  one  time  of  riding  into  Pietersdorp  to  consult 
the  Native  Commissioner.  But  I  discovered  that  the  old 
man  who  knew  the  country  was  gone,  and  that  his  successor 
was  a  young  fellow  from  Rhodesia,  who  knew  nothing  about 
anything.  Besides,  the  natives  round  Blaauwildebeestefon- 
tein  were  well  conducted,  and  received  few  official  visita- 
tions. Now  and  then  a  couple  of  Zulu  policemen  passed 
in  pursuit  of  some  minor  malefactor,  and  the  collector  came 
for  the  hut-tax;  but  we  gave  the  Government  little  work, 
and  they  did  not  trouble  their  heads  about  us. 

As  I  have  said,  the  clues  I  had  brought  out  with  me  to 
Blaauwildebeestefontein  began  to  occupy  my  mind  again; 
and  the  more  I  thought  of  the  business  the  keener  I  grew.  I 
used  to  amuse  myself  with  setting  out  my  various  bits  of 
knowledge.  There  was  first  of  all  the  Rev.  John  Laputa, 
his  doings  on  the  Kirkcaple  shore,  his  talk  with  Henriques 
about  Blaauwildebeestefontein,  and  his  strange  behaviour 
at  Durban.  Then  there  was  what  Colles  had  told  me  about 
the  place  being  queer,  how  nobody  would  stay  long  either  in 
the  store  or  the  schoolhouse.     Then  there  was  my  talk  with 


BLAAU  WILDEBEESTEFONTEIN  5  3 

Aitken  at  Lourengo  Marques,  and  his  story  of  a  great  wizard 
in  the  neighbourhood  to  whom  all  Kaffirs  made  pilgrimages, 
and  the  suspicion  of  a  diamond  pipe.  Last  and  most  impor- 
tant, there  was  this  perpetual  spying  on  myself.  It  was  as 
clear  as  daylight  that  the  place  held  some  secret,  and  I 
wondered  if  old  Japp  knew.  I  was  fool  enough  one  day  to 
ask  him  about  diamonds.  He  met  me  with  contemptuous 
laughter.  "There's  your  ignorant  Britisher,"  he  cried.  "If 
you  had  ever  been  to  Kimberley  you  would  know  the  look 
of  a  diamond  country.  You're  as  likely  to  find  diamonds 
here  as  ocean  pearls.  But  go  out  and  scrape  in  the  spruit 
if  you  like 5  you'll  maybe  find  some  garnets." 

I  made  cautious  inquiries,  too,  chiefly  through  Mr.  Ward- 
law,  who  was  becoming  a  great  expert  at  Kaffir,  about  the 
existence  of  Aitken's  wizard,  but  he  could  get  no  news. 
The  most  he  found  out  was  that  there  was  a  good  cure  for 
fever  among  Sikitola's  men,  and  that  Majinje,  if  she  pleased, 
could  bring  rain. 

The  upshot  of  it  all  was  that,  after  much  brooding,  I 
wrote  a  letter  to  Mr.  Colles,  and,  to  make  sure  of  its  going, 
gave  it  to  a  missionary  to  post  in  Pietersdorp.  I  told  him 
frankly  what  Aitken  had  said,  and  I  also  told  him  about  the 
espionage.  I  said  nothing  about  old  Japp,  for,  beast  as  he 
was,  I  did  not  want  him  at  his  age  to  be  without  a  livelihood. 


CHAPTER  IV 

MY  JOURNEY  TO  THE  WINTER-VELD 

A  REPLY  came  from  Colles,  addressed  not  to  me  but  to  Japp. 
It  seemed  that  the  old  fellow  had  once  suggested  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  branch  store  at  a  place  out  in  the  plains  called 
Umvelos',  and  the  firm  was  now  prepared  to  take  up  the 
scheme.  Japp  was  in  high  good  humour,  and  showed  me 
the  letter.  Not  a  word  was  said  of  what  I  had  written 
about,  only  the  bare  details  about  starting  the  branch.  I 
was  to  get  a  couple  of  masons,  load  up  two  wagons  with 
bricks  and  timber,  and  go  down  to  Umvelos'  and  see  the 
store  built.  The  stocking  of  it  and  the  appointment  of  a 
storekeeper  would  be  matter  for  further  correspondence. 
Japp  was  delighted,  for  besides  getting  rid  of  me  for  several 
weeks,  it  showed  that  his  advice  was  respected  by  his  supe- 
riors. He  went  about  bragging  that  the  firm  could  not  get 
on  without  him,  and  was  inclined  to  be  more  insolent  to  me 
than  usual  in  his  new  self-esteem.  He  also  got  royally 
drunk  over  the  head  of  it. 

I  confess  I  was  hurt  by  the  manager's  silence  on  what 
seemed  to  me  more  vital  matters.  But  I  soon  reflected  that 
if  he  wrote  at  all  he  would  write  direct  to  me,  and  I  eagerly 
watched  for  the  post-runner.  No  letter  came,  however, 
and  I  was  soon  too  busy  with  preparations  to  look  for  one.  I 
got  the  bricks  and  timber  from  Pietersdorp,  and  hired  two 

54 


MY  JOURNEY  TO  THE  WINTER-VELD     55 

Dutch  masons  to  run  the  job.  The  place  was  not  very  far 
from  Sikitola's  kraal,  so  there  would  be  no  difficulty  about 
native  helpers.  Having  my  eyes  open  for  trade,  I  resolved  to 
kill  two  birds  with  one  stone.  It  is  the  fashion  among  the 
old-fashioned  farmers  on  the  high-veld  to  drive  the  cattle 
down  into  the  bush-veld — which  they  call  the  winter-veld — 
for  winter  pasture.  There  is  no  fear  of  redwater  about  that 
season,  and  the  grass  of  the  plains  is  rich  and  thick  com- 
pared with  the  uplands.  I  discovered  that  some  big  droves 
were  passing  on  a  certain  day,  and  that  the  owners  and  their 
families  were  travelling  with  them  in  wagons.  Accordingly 
I  had  a  light  naachtmaal  fitted  up  as  a  sort  of  travelling  store, 
and  with  my  two  wagons  full  of  building  material  joined 
the  caravan.  I  hoped  to  do  good  trade  in  selling  little 
luxuries  to  the  farmers  on  the  road  and  at  Umvelos'. 

It  was  a  clear  cold  morning  when  we  started  down  the 
Berg.  At  first  my  hands  were  full  with  the  job  of  get- 
ting my  heavy  wagons  down  the  awesome  precipice  which 
did  duty  as  a  highway.  We  locked  the  wheels  with  chains, 
and  tied  great  logs  of  wood  behind  to  act  as  brakes.  Hap- 
pily my  drivers  knew  their  business,  but  one  of  the  Boer 
wagons  got  a  wheel  over  the  edge,  and  it  was  all  that  ten 
men  could  do  to  get  it  back  again. 

After  that  the  road  was  easier,  winding  down  the  side 
of  a  slowly  opening  glen.  I  rode  beside  the  wagons,  and 
so  heavenly  was  the  weather  that  I  was  content  with  my 
own  thoughts.  The  sky  was  clear  blue,  the  air  warm,  yet 
with  a  wintry  tonic  in  it,  and  a  thousand  aromatic  scents 
came  out  of  the  thickets.  The  pied  birds  called  "Kaffir 
queens"  fluttered  across  the  path.     Below,  the  Klein  La- 


56  PRESTER  JOHN 

bongo  churned  and  foamed  in  a  hundred  cascades.  Its 
waters  were  no  more  the  clear  grey  of  the  "Blue  Wilde- 
beeste's  Spring,"  but  were  growing  muddy  with  its  approach 
to  the  richer  soil  of  the  plains. 

Oxen  travel  slow,  and  we  outspanned  that  night  half  a 
day's  march  short  of  Umvelos'.  I  spent  the  hour  before 
sunset  lounging  and  smoking  with  the  Dutch  farmers.  At 
first  they  had  been  silent  and  suspicious  of  a  newcomer,  but 
by  this  time  I  talked  their  tad  fluently,  and  we  were  soon 
on  good  terms.  I  recall  a  discussion  arising  about  a  black 
thing  in  a  tree  about  five  hundred  yards  away.  I  thought 
it  was  an  aasvogel,  but  another  thought  it  was  a  baboon. 
Whereupon  the  oldest  of  the  party,  a  farmer  called  Coetzee, 
whipped  up  his  rifle  and,  apparently  without  sighting,  fired. 
A  dark  object  fell  out  of  the  branch,  and  when  we  reached 
it  we  found  it  a  bamaan  *  sure  enough,  shot  through  the 
head.  "Which  side  are  you  on  in  the  next  war?"  the  old 
man  asked  me,  and,  laughing,  I  told  him  "Yours." 

After  supper,  the  ingredients  of  which  came  largely  from 
my  naachtmaal^  we  sat  smoking  and  talking  round  the  fire, 
the  women  and  children  being  snug  in  the  covered  wagons. 
The  Boers  were  honest  companionable  fellows,  and  when  I 
had  made  a  bowl  of  toddy  in  the  Scotch  fashion  to  keep  out 
the  evening  chill,  we  all  became  excellent  friends.  They 
asked  me  how  I  got  on  with  Japp.  Old  Coetzee  saved  me 
the  trouble  of  answering,  for  he  broke  in  with  SkeUiim! 
Skellum!  f  I  asked  him  his  objection  to  the  storekeeper, 
but  he  would  say  nothing  beyond  that  he  was  too  thick  with 

•  Baboon. 
fSr/jclm  =  Rascal. 


MY  JOURNEY  TO  THE  WINTER-VELD     SI 

the  natives.  I  fancy  at  some  time  Mr.  Japp  had  sold  him 
a  bad  plough. 

We  spoke  of  hunting,  and  I  heard  long  tales  of  exploits 
— away  on  the  Limpopo,  in  Mashonaland,  on  the  Sabi  and 
in  the  Lebombo.  Then  we  verged  on  politics,  and  I  listened 
to  violent  denunciations  of  the  new  land  tax.  These  were 
old  residenters,  I  reflected,  and  I  might  learn  perhaps  some- 
thing of  value.  So  very  carefully  I  repeated  a  tale  I  said 
I  had  heard  at  Durban  of  a  great  wizard  somewhere  in  the 
Berg,  and  asked  if  any  one  knew  of  it.  They  shook  their 
heads.  The  natives  had  given  up  witchcraft  and  big  medi- 
cine, they  said,  and  were  more  afraid  of  a  parson  or  a  police- 
man than  any  witch-doctor.  Then  they  were  starting  on 
reminiscences,  when  old  Coetzee,  who  was  deaf,  broke  in 
and  asked  to  have  my  question  repeated. 

"Yes,''  he  said,  "I  know.  It  is  in  the  Rooirand.  There 
is  a  devil  dwells  there." 

I  could  get  no  more  out  of  him  beyond  the  fact  that  there 
was  certainly  a  great  devil  there.  His  grandfather  and 
father  had  seen  it,  and  he  himself  had  heard  it  roaring 
when  he  had  gone  there  as  a  boy  to  hunt.  He  would  explain 
no  further,  and  went  to  bed. 

Next  morning,  close  to  Sikitola's  kraal,  I  bade  the  farmers 
good-bye,  after  telling  them  that  there  would  be  a  store 
in  my  wagon  for  three  weeks  at  Umvelos'  if  they  wanted 
supplies.  We  then  struck  more  to  the  north  towards  our 
destination.  As  soon  as  they  had  gone  I  had  out  my  map 
and  searched  it  for  the  name  old  Coetzee  had  mentioned. 
It  was  a  very  bad  map,  for  there  had  been  no  surveying  east 
of  the  Berg,  and  most  of  the  names  were  mere  guesses.    But 


58  PRESTER  JOHN 

I  found  the  word  "Rooirand"  marking  an  eastern  continua- 
tion of  the  northern  will,  and  probably  set  down  from  some 
hunter's  report.  I  had  better  explain  here  the  chief  features 
of  the  country,  for  they  bulk  largely  in  my  story.  The  Berg 
runs  north  and  south,  and  from  it  run  the  chief  streams 
which  water  the  plain.  They  are,  beginning  from  the  south, 
the  Olifants,  the  Groot  Letaba,  the  Letsitela,  the  Klein 
Letaba,  and  the  Klein  Labongo,  on  which  stands  Blaau- 
wildebeestefontein.  But  the  greatest  river  of  the  plain,  into 
which  the  others  ultimately  flow,  is  the  Groot  Labongo, 
which  appears  full-born  from  some  subterranean  source 
close  to  the  place  called  Umvelos'.  North  from  Blaauwilde- 
beestefontein  the  Berg  runs  for  some  twenty  miles,  and 
then  makes  a  sharp  turn  eartward,  becoming,  according  to 
my  map,  the  Rooirand. 

I  pored  over  these  details,  and  was  particularly  curious 
about  the  Great  Labongo.  It  seemed  to  me  unlikely  that 
a  spring  in  the  bush  could  produce  so  great  a  river,  and  I 
decided  that  its  source  must  lie  in  the  mountains  to  the 
north.  As  well  as  I  could  guess,  the  Rooirand,  the  nearest 
part  of  the  Berg,  was  about  fifty  miles  distant.  Old  Coetzee 
had  said  that  there  was  a  devil  in  the  place,  but  I  thought 
that  if  it  were  explored  the  first  thing  found  would  be  a 
fine  stream  of  water. 

We  got  to  Umvelos'  after  midday,  and  outspanned  for 
our  three  weeks'  work.  I  set  the  Dutchmen  to  unload  and 
clear  the  ground  for  foundations,  while  I  went  off  to  Sikitola 
to  ask  for  labourers.  I  got  a  dozen  lusty  blacks,  and  soon 
we  had  a  business-like  encampment,  and  the  work  went  on 
merrily.     It  was  rough  architecture  and  rougher  masonry. 


MY  JOURNEY  TO  THE  WINTER-VELD     59 

All  we  aimed  at  was  a  two-roomed  shop  with  a  kind  of  out- 
house for  stores.  I  was  architect,  and  watched  the  marking 
out  of  the  foundations  and  the  first  few  feet  of  the  walls. 
Sikitola's  people  proved  themselves  good  helpers,  and  most 
of  the  building  was  left  to  them,  while  the  Dutchmen 
worked  at  the  carpentry.  Bricks, ran  short  before  we  got 
very  far,  and  we  had  to  set  to  brickmaking  on  the  bank  of 
the  Labongo,  and  finish  off  the  walls  with  green  bricks, 
which  gave  the  place  a  queer  piebald  look. 

I  was  not  much  of  a  carpenter,  and  there  were  plenty  of 
builders  without  me,  so  I  found  a  considerable  amount  of 
time  on  my  hands.  At  first  I  acted  as  a  shopkeeper  in  the 
naachtmaal^  but  I  soon  cleared  out  my  stores  to  the  Dutch 
farmers  and  the  natives.  I  had  thought  of  going  back  for 
more,  and  then  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  might  profitably 
give  some  of  my  leisure  to  the  Rooirand.  I  could  see  the 
wall  of  the  mountains  quite  clear  to  the  north,  within  an 
easy  day^s  ride.  So  one  morning  I  packed  enough  food  for 
a  day  or  two,  tied  my  sleeping-bag  on  my  saddle,  and  set 
off  to  explore,  after  appointing  the  elder  of  the  Dutchmen 
foreman  of  the  job  in  my  absence. 

It  was  very  hot  jogging  along  the  native  path  with  the 
eternal  olive-green  bush  around  me.  Happily  there  was 
no  fear  of  my  losing  the  way,  for  the  Rooirand  stood  very 
clear  in  front,  and  slowly,  as  I  advanced,  I  began  to  make 
out  the  details  of  the  cliffs.  At  luncheon  time,  when  I  was 
about  halfway,  I  sat  down  with  my  Zeiss  glass — my  mother's 
farewell  gift — to  look  for  the  valley.  But  valley  I  saw 
none.  The  wall — reddish  purple  it  looked,  and,  I  thought, 
of  porphyry — was  continuous  and  unbroken.     There  were 


60  PRESTER  JOHN 

chimneys  and  fissures,  but  none  great  enough  to  hold  a  river. 
The  top  was  sheer  cliff;  then  came  loose  kranzes  in  tiers, 
like  the  seats  in  a  gallery,  and,  below,  a  dense  thicket  of 
trees.  I  raked  the  whole  line  for  a  break,  but  there  seemed 
none.  "It's  a  bad  job  for  me,"  I  thought,  "if  there  is  no 
water,  for  I  must  pass  the  night  there." 

The  night  was  spent  in  a  sheltered  nook  at  the  foot 
of  the  rocks,  but  my  horse  and  I  went  to  bed  without  a 
drink.  My  supper  was  some  raisins  and  biscuits,  for  I  did 
not  dare  to  run  the  risk  of  increasing  my  thirst.  I  had  found 
a  great  bank  of  debris  sloping  up  to  the  kranzes,  and  thick 
wood  clothing  all  the  slope.  The  grass  seemed  wonderfully 
fresh,  but  of  water  there  was  no  sign.  There  was  not  even 
the  sandy  channel  of  a  stream  to  dig  in. 

In  the  morning  I  had  a  difficult  problem  to  face.  Water 
I  must  find  at  all  costs,  or  I  must  go  home.  There  was 
time  enough  for  me  to  get  back  without  suffering  much, 
but  if  so  I  must  give  up  my  explorations.  This  I  was  de- 
termined not  to  do.  The  more  I  looked  at  these  red  cliffs 
the  more  eager  I  was  to  find  out  their  secret.  There  must 
be  water  somewhere;  otherwise  how  account  for  the  lush- 
ness  of  the  vegetation? 

My  horse  was  a  veld  pony,  so  I  set  him  loose  to  see  what 
he  would  do.  He  strayed  back  on  the  path  to  Umvelos'. 
This  looked  bad,  for  it  meant  that  he  did  not  smell  water 
along  the  cliff  front.  If  I  was  to  find  a  stream  it  must 
be  on  the  top,  and  I  must  try  a  little  mountaineering. 

Then,  taking  my  courage  in  both  my  hands,  I  decided. 
I  gave  my  pony  a  cut,  and  set  him  off  on  the  homeward 
road.     I  knew  he  was  safe  to  get  back  in  four  or  five  hours, 


MY  JOURNEY  TO  THE  WINTER-VELD     61 

and  in  broad  day  there  was  little  fear  of  wild  beasts  attack- 
ing him.  I  had  tied  my  sleeping-bag  on  to  the  saddle,  and 
had  with  me  but  two  pocketfuls  of  food.  I  had  also  fastened 
on  the  saddle  a  letter  to  my  Dutch  foreman,  bidding  him 
send  a  native  with  a  spare  horse  to  fetch  me  by  the  evening. 
Then  I  started  off  to  look  for  a  chimney. 

A  boyhood  spent  on  the  cliffs  at  Kirkcaple  had  made  me 
a  bold  cragsman,  and  the  porphyry  of  the  Rooirand  clearly 
gave  excellent  holds.  But  I  walked  many  weary  miles  along 
the  cliff-foot  before  I  found  a  feasible  road.  To  begin  with, 
it  was  no  light  task  to  fight  one's  way  through  the  dense 
undergrowth  of  the  lower  slopes.  Every  kind  of  thorn  bush 
lay  in  wait  for  my  skin,  creepers  tripped  me  up,  high  trees 
shut  out  the  light,  and  I  was  in  mortal  fear  lest  a  black 
mamba  might  appear  out  of  the  tangle.  It  grew  very  hot, 
and  the  screes  above  the  thicket  were  blistering  to  the  touch. 
My  tongue,  too,  stuck  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth  with  thirst. 

The  first  chimney  I  tried  ran  out  on  the  face  into  noth- 
ingness, and  I  had  to  make  a  dangerous  descent.  The  sec- 
ond was  a  deep  gully,  but  so  choked  with  rubble  that  after 
nearly  braining  myself  I  desisted.  Still  going  eastwards,  I 
found  a  sloping  ledge  which  took  me  to  a  platform  from 
which  ran  a  crack  with  a  little  tree  growing  in  it.  My  glass 
showed  me  that  beyond  this  tree  the  crack  broadened  into 
a  clearly  defined  chimney  which  led  to  the  top.  If  I  can 
once  reach  that  tree,  I  thought,  the  battle  is  won. 

The  crack  was  only  a  few  inches  wide,  large  enough  to 
let  in  an  arm  and  a  foot,  and  it  ran  slantwise  up  a  perpen- 
dicular rock.  I  do  not  think  I  realised  how  bad  it  was  till 
I  had  gone  too  far  to  return.     Then  my  foot  jammed,  and 


62  PRESTER  JOHN 

I  paused  for  breath  with  my  legs  and  arms  cramping  rapidly. 
I  remember  that  I  looked  to  the  west,  and  saw  through  the 
sweat  which  kept  dropping  into  my  eyes  that  about  half 
a  mile  off  a  piece  of  cliff  which  looked  unbroken  from  the 
foot  had  a  fold  in  it  to  the  right.  The  darkness  of  the  fold 
showed  me  that  it  was  a  deep,  narrow  gully.  However,  I 
had  no  time  to  think  of  this,  for  I  was  fast  in  the  middle 
of  my  confounded  crack.  With  immense  labour  I  found 
a  chockstone  above  my  head,  and  managed  to  force  my 
foot  free.  The  next  few  yards  were  not  so  difficult,  and 
then  I  stuck  once  more. 

For  the  crack  suddenly  grew  shallow  as  the  cliff  bulged  out 
above  me.  I  had  almost  given  up  hope,  when  I  saw  that  about 
three  feet  above  my  head  grew  the  tree.  If  I  could  reach  it 
and  swing  out  I  might  hope  to  pull  myself  up  to  the  ledge 
on  which  it  grew.  I  confess  it  needed  all  my  courage,  for 
I  did  not  know  but  that  the  tree  might  be  loose,  and  that 
it  and  I  might  go  rattling  down  four  hundred  feet.  It 
was  my  only  hope,  however,  so  I  set  my  teeth,  and  wriggling 
up  a  few  inches,  made  a  grab  at  it.  Thank  God  it  held,  and 
with  a  great  effort  I  pulled  my  shoulder  over  the  ledge,  and 
breathed  freely. 

My  difficulties  were  not  ended,  but  the  worst  was  past. 
The  rest  of  the  gully  gave  me  good  and  safe  climbing,  and 
presently  a  very  limp  and  weary  figure  lay  on  the  cliff-top. 
It  took  me  many  minutes  to  get  back  my  breath  and  to  con- 
quer the  faintness  which  seized  me  as  soon  as  the  need  for 
exertion  was  over. 

When  I  scrambled  to  my  feet  and  looked  round,  I  saw 
a  wonderful  prospect.     It  was  a  plateau  like  the  high-veld, 


MY  JOURNEY  TO  THE  WINTER-VELD     63 

only  covered  with  bracken  and  little  bushes  like  hazels. 
Three  or  four  miles  off  the  ground  rose,  and  a  shallow  vale 
opened.  But  in  the  foreground,  half  a  mile  or  so  distant, 
a  lake  lay  gleaming  in  the  sun. 

I  could  scarcely  believe  my  eyes  as  I  ran  towards  it,  and 
doubts  of  a  mirage  haunted  me.  But  it  was  no  mirage,  but 
a  real  lake,  perhaps  three  miles  in  circumference,  with 
bracken-fringed  banks,  a  shore  of  white  pebbles,  and  clear 
deep  blue  water.  I  drank  my  fill,  and  then  stripped  and 
swam  in  the  blessed  coolness.  After  that  I  ate  some  lunch- 
eon, and  sunned  myself  on  a  flat  rock.  "I  have  discovered 
the  source  of  the  Labongo,"  I  said  to  myself.  "I  will  write 
to  the  Royal  Geographical  Society,  and  they  will  give  me 
a  medal." 

I  walked  round  the  lake  to  look  for  an  outlet.  A  fine 
mountain  stream  came  in  at  the  north  end,  and  at  the  south 
end,  sure  enough,  a  considerable  river  debouched.  My  ex- 
ploring zeal  redoubled,  and  I  followed  its  course  in  a  de- 
lirium of  expectation.  It  was  a  noble  stream,  clear  as  crystal, 
and  very  unlike  the  muddy  tropical  Labongo  at  Umvelos'. 
Suddenly,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  lake,  the  land 
seemed  to  grow  over  it,  and  with  a  swirl  and  a  hollow  roar, 
it  disappeared  into  a  pot-hole.  I  walked  a  few  steps  on, 
and  from  below  my  feet  came  the  most  uncanny  rumbling 
and  groaning.  Then  I  knew  what  old  Coetzee's  devil  was 
that  howled  in  the  Rooirand. 

Had  I  continued  my  walk  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  I 
might  have  learned  a  secret  which  would  have  stood  me  in 
good  stead  later.    But  the  descent  began  to  make  me  anxious. 


64  PRESTER  JOHN 

and  I  retraced  my  steps  to  the  top  of  the  chimney  whence 
I  had  come.  I  was  resolved  that  nothing  would  make  me 
descend  by  that  awesome  crack,  so  I  kept  on  eastward  along 
the  top  to  look  for  a  better  way.  I  found  one  about  a  mile 
farther  on,  which,  though  far  from  easy,  had  no  special 
risks  save  from  the  appalling  looseness  of  the  debris.  When 
I  got  down  at  length,  I  found  that  it  was  near  sunset.  I 
went  to  the  place  where  I  had  bidden  my  native  look  for 
me  but,  as  I  had  feared,  there  was  no  sign  of  him.  So, 
making  the  best  of  a  bad  job,  I  had  supper  and  a  pipe,  and 
spent  a  very  chilly  night  in  a  hole  among  the  boulders. 

I  got  up  at  dawn  stiff  and  cold,  and  ate  a  few  raisins  for 
breakfast.  There  was  no  sign  of  horses,  so  I  resolved  to  fill 
up  the  time  in  looking  for  the  fold  of  the  cliff,  which,  as 
I  had  seen  from  the  horrible  crack  of  yesterday,  contained 
a  gully.  It  was  a  difficult  job,  for  to  get  the  sidelong  view 
of  the  cliff  I  had  to  scramble  through  the  undergrowth  of 
the  slopes  again,  and  even  a  certain  way  up  the  kranzes. 
At  length  I  got  my  bearings,  and  fixed  the  place  by  some 
tall  trees  in  the  bush.  Then  I  descended  and  walked  west- 
wards. 

Suddenly,  as  I  neared  the  place,  I  heard  the  strangest 
sound  coming  from  the  rocks.  It  was  a  deep  mufHed  groan- 
ing, so  eerie  and  unearthly  that  for  the  moment  I  stood 
and  shivered.  Then  I  remembered  my  river  of  yesterday. 
It  must  be  above  this  place  that  it  descended  into  the  earth, 
and  in  the  hush  of  dawn  the  sound  was  naturally  louder. 
No  wonder  old  Coetzee  had  been  afraid  of  devils.  It  re- 
minded me  of  the  lines  in  Marmion — 


MY  JOURNEY  TO  THE  WINTER-VELD     65 

"Diving  as  if  condemned  to  lave 
Some  demon's  subterranean  cave, 
Who,  prisoned  by  enchanter's  spell. 
Shakes  the  dark  rock  with  groan  and  yell." 

While  I  was  standing  awestruck  at  the  sound,  I  observed 
a  figure  moving  towards  the  cliffs.  I  was  well  in  cover,  so 
I  could  not  have  been  noticed.  It  was  a  very  old  man,  very 
tall,  but  bowed  in  the  shoulders,  who  was  walking  slowly 
with  bent  head.  He  could  not  have  been  thirty  yards  from 
me,  so  I  had  a  clear  view  of  his  face.  He  was  a  native,  but 
of  a  type  I  had  never  seen  before.  A  long  white  beard 
fell  on  his  breast,  and  a  magnificent  kaross  of  leopard  skin 
covered  his  shoulders.  His  face  was  seamed  and  lined  and 
shrunken,  so  that  he  seemed  as  old  as  Time  itself. 

Very  carefully  I  crept  after  him,  and  found  myself 
opposite  the  fold  where  the  gully  was.  There  was  a  clear 
path  through  the  jungle,  a  path  worn  smooth  by  many  feet. 
I  followed  it  through  the  undergrowth  and  over  the  screes 
till  it  turned  inside  the  fold  of  the  gully.  And  then  it 
stopped  short.  I  was  in  a  deep  cleft,  but  in  front  was  a 
slab  of  sheer  rock.  Above,  the  gully  looked  darker  and 
deeper,  but  there  was  this  great  slab  to  pass.  I  examined 
the  sides,  but  they  were  sheer  rock  with  no  openings. 

Had  I  had  my  wits  about  me,  I  would  have  gone  back 
and  followed  the  spoor,  noting  where  it  stopped.  But  the 
whole  thing  looked  black  magic  to  mej  my  stomach  was 
empty  and  my  enterprise  small.  Besides,  there  was  the  ter- 
rible moaning  of  the  imprisoned  river  in  my  ears.  I  am 
ashamed  to  confess  it,  but  I  ran  from  that  gully  as  if  the 
devil  and  all  his  angels  had  been  following  me.     Indeed 


66  PRESTER  JOHN 

I  did  not  slacken  till  I  had  put  a  good  mile  between  me 
and  those  uncanny  cliffs.  After  that  I  set  out  to  foot  it 
back.     If  the  horses  would  not  come  to  me  I  must  go  to 

them. 

I  walked  twenty-five  miles  in  a  vile  temper,  enraged  at 
my  Dutchmen,  my  natives  and  everybody.  The  truth  is 
I  had  been  frightened,  and  my  pride  was  sore  about  it.  It 
grew  very  hot,  the  sand  rose  and  choked  me,  the  mopani 
trees  with  their  dull  green  wearied  me,  the  "Kaffir  queens" 
and  jays  and  rollers  which  flew  about  the  path  seemed  to 
be  there  to  mock  me.  About  half-way  home  I  found  a 
boy  and  two  horses,  and  roundly  I  cursed  him.  It  seemed 
that  my  pony  had  returned  right  enough,  and  the  boy  had 
been  sent  to  fetch  me.  He  had  got  half-way  before  sunset 
the  night  before,  and  there  he  had  stayed.  I  discovered 
from  him  that  he  was  scared  to  death,  and  did  not  dare  to 
go  any  nearer  the  Rooirand.  It  was  accursed,  he  said,  for 
it  was  an  abode  of  devils  and  only  wizards  went  near  it.  I 
was  bound  to  admit  to  myself  that  I  could  not  blame  him. 
At  last  I  had  got  on  the  track  of  something  certain  about 
this  mysterious  country,  and  all  the  way  back  I  wondered 
if  I  should  have  the  courage  to  follow  it  up. 


CHAPTER  V 

MR.    WARDLAW    HAS   A   PREMONITION 

A  WEEK  later  the  building  job  was  finished,  I  locked  the 
door  of  the  new  store,  pocketed  the  key,  and  we  set  out  for 
home.  Sikitola  was  entrusted  with  the  general  care  of  it, 
and  I  knew  him  well  enough  to  be  sure  that  he  would  keep 
his  people  from  doing  mischief.  I  left  my  empty  wagons 
to  follow  at  their  leisure  and  rode  on,  with  the  result  that 
I  arrived  at  Blaauwildebeestefontein  two  days  before  I  was 
looked  for. 

I  stabled  my  horse,  and  went  round  to  the  back  to  see 
Colin.  (I  had  left  him  at  home  in  case  of  fights  with  native 
dogs,  for  he  was  an  ill  beast  in  a  crowd.)  I  found  him  well 
and  hearty,  for  Zeeta  had  been  looking  after  him.  Then 
some  whim  seized  me  to  enter  the  store  through  my  bed- 
room window.  It  was  open,  and  I  crawled  softly  in  to  find 
the  room  fresh  and  clean  from  Zeeta's  care.  The  door  was 
ajar,  and,  hearing  voices,  I  peeped  into  the  shop. 

Japp  was  sitting  on  the  counter  talking  in  a  low  voice 
to  a  big  native — the  same  'Mwanga  whom  I  had  bundled  out 
unceremoniously.  I  noticed  that  the  outer  door  giving  on  the 
road  was  shut,  a  most  unusual  thing  in  the  afternoon.  Japp 
had  some  small  objects  in  his  hand,  and  the  two  were  evi- 
dently arguing  about  a  price.     I  had  no  intention  at  first  of 

eavesdropping,  and  was  just  about  to  push  the  door  open. 

67 


68  PRESTER  JOHN 

when  something  in  Japp's  face  arrested  me.  He  was  up  to 
no  good,  and  I  thought  it  my  business  to  wait. 

The  low  tones  went  on  for  a  little,  both  men  talking  in 
Kaffir,  and  then  Japp  lifted  up  one  of  the  little  objects 
between  finger  and  thumb.  It  was  a  small  roundish  stone 
about  the  size  of  a  bean,  but  even  in  that  half  light  there 
was  a  dull  lustre  in  it. 

At  that  I  shoved  the  door  open  and  went  in.  Both 
men  started  as  if  they  had  been  shot.  Japp  went  as  white 
as  his  mottled  face  permitted.  "What  the — "  he  gasped, 
and  he  dropped  the  thing  he  was  holding. 

I  picked  it  up,  and  laid  it  on  the  counter.  "So,"  I  said, 
"diamonds,  Mr.  Japp.  You  have  found  the  pipe  I  was 
looking  for.     I  congratulate  you." 

My  words  gave  the  old  ruffian  his  cue.  "Yes,  yes,"  he 
said,  "I  have,  or  rather  my  friend  'Mwanga  has.  He  has 
just  been  telling  me  about  it." 

The  Kaffir  looked  miserably  uncomfortable.  He  shifted 
from  one  leg  to  the  other,  casting  longing  glances  at  the 
closed  door. 

"I  tink  I  go,"  he  said.  "Afterwards  we  will  speak 
more." 

I  told  him  I  thought  he  had  better  go,  and  opened  the 
door  for  him.  Then  I  bolted  it  again,  and  turned  to  Mr. 
Japp. 

"So  that's  your  game,"  I  said.  "I  thought  there  was 
something  funny  about  you,  but  I  didn't  know  it  was  I.D.B. 
you  were  up  to." 

He  looked  as  if  he  could  kill  me.  For  five  minutes  he 
cursed  me  with  a  perfection  of  phrase  which  I  had  thought 


OLi>   Kh.l'K01*.\l'i>:       1    KOAKl'.D. 


MR.  WARDLAW'S  PREMONITION  69 

beyond  him.  It  was  no  I.D.B.,  he  declared,  but  a  pipe  which 
'Mwanga  had  discovered. 

"In  this  kind  of  country?"  I  said,  quoting  his  own  words. 
"Why,  you  might  as  well  expect  to  find  ocean  pearls  as 
diamonds.  But  scrape  in  the  spruit  if  you  likej  you'll  maybe 
find  some  garnets." 

He  choked  down  his  wrath,  and  tried  a  new  tack.  "What 
will  you  take  to  hold  your  tongue?  Pll  make  you  a  rich 
man  if  you'll  come  in  with  me."  And  then  he  started  with 
offers  which  showed  that  he  had  been  making  a  good  thing 
out  of  the  traffic. 

I  stalked  over  to  him,  and  took  him  by  the  shoulder. 
"You  old  reprobate,"  I  roared,  "if  you  breathe  such  a  pro- 
posal to  me  again,  I'll  tie  you  up  like  a  sack  and  carry  you 
to  Pietersdorp." 

At  this  he  broke  down  and  wept  maudlin  tears,  disgust- 
ing to  witness.  He  said  he  was  an  old  man  who  had  always 
lived  honestly,  and  it  would  break  his  heart  if  his  grey  hairs 
were  to  be  disgraced.  As  he  sat  rocking  himself  with  his 
hands  over  his  face,  I  saw  his  wicked  little  eyes  peering 
through  the  slits  of  his  fingers  to  see  what  my  next  move 
would  be. 

"See  here,  Mr.  Japp,"  I  said,  "I'm  not  a  police  spy, 
and  it's  no  business  of  mine  to  inform  against  you  I'm 
willing  to  keep  you  out  of  gaol,  but  it  must  be  on  my  own 
conditions.  The  first  is  that  you  resign  this  job  and  clear 
out.  You  will  write  to  Mr.  Colles  a  letter  at  my  dictation, 
saying  that  you  find  the  work  too  much  for  you.  The  sec- 
ond is  that  for  the  time  you  remain  here  the  diamond  business 
must  utterly  cease.    If  'Mwanga  or  anybody  like  him  comes 


70  PRESTER  JOHN 

inside  the  store,  and  if  I  get  the  slightest  hint  that  you're 
back  at  the  trade,  in  you  go  to  Pietersdorp.  I'm  not  going 
to  have  my  name  disgraced  by  being  associated  with  you. 
The  third  condition  is  that  when  you  leave  this  place  you 
go  clear  away.  If  you  come  within  twenty  miles  of  Blaau- 
wildebeestefontein  and  I  find  you,  I  will  give  you  up." 

He  groaned  and  writhed  at  my  terms,  but  in  the  end 
accepted  them.  He  wrote  the  letter,  and  I  posted  it.  I 
had  no  pity  for  the  old  scamp,  who  had  feathered  his  nest 
well.  Small  wonder  that  the  firm's  business  was  not  as 
good  as  it  might  be,  when  Japp  was  giving  most  of  his  time 
to  buying  diamonds  from  native  thieves.  The  secret  put 
him  in  the  power  of  any  Kaffir  who  traded  him  a  stone.  No 
wonder  he  cringed  to  ruffians  like  'Mwanga. 

The  second  thing  I  did  was  to  shift  my  quarters.  Mr. 
Wardlaw  had  a  spare  room  which  he  had  offered  me  before, 
and  now  I  accepted  it.  I  wanted  to  be  no  more  mixed  up 
with  Japp  than  I  could  help,  for  I  did  not  know  what  villainy 
he  might  let  me  in  for.  Moreover,  I  carried  Zeeta  with 
me,  being  ashamed  to  leave  her  at  the  mercy  of  the  old 
bully.  Japp  went  up  to  the  huts  and  hired  a  slattern  to 
mind  his  house,  and  then  drank  heavily  for  three  days  to 
console  himself. 

That  night  I  sat  smoking  with  Mr.  Wardlaw  in  his 
sitting  room  where  a  welcome  fire  burned,  for  the  nights 
on  the  Berg  were  chilly.  I  remember  the  occasion  well  for 
the  queer  turn  the  conversation  took.  Mr.  Wardlaw,  as 
I  have  said,  had  been  working  like  a  slave  at  the  Kaffir 
tongues.     I  talked  a  kind  of  Zulu  well  enough  to  make  my- 


MR.  WARDLAW^S  PREMONITION  71 

self  understood,  and  I  could  follow  it  when  spoken;  but  he 
had  real  scholarship  in  the  thing,  and  knew  all  about  the 
grammar  and  the  different  dialects.  Further,  he  had  read 
a  lot  about  native  history,  and  was  full  of  the  doings  of 
Chaka  and  Mosilikatse  and  Moshesh,  and  the  kings  of  old. 
Having  little  to  do  in  the  way  of  teaching,  he  had  made  up 
for  it  by  reading  omnivorously.  He  used  to  borrow  books 
from  the  missionaries,  and  he  must  have  spent  half  his 
salary  in  buying  new  ones. 

Tonight  as  he  sat  and  puffed  in  his  armchair,  he  was 
full  of  stories  about  a  fellow  called  Monomotapa.  It  seems 
he  was  a  great  black  emperor  whom  the  Portuguese  dis- 
covered about  the  sixteenth  century.  He  lived  to  the  north 
in  Mashonaland,  and  had  a  mountain  full  of  gold.  The 
Portuguese  did  not  make  much  of  him,  but  they  got  his 
son  and  turned  him  into  a  priest. 

I  told  Wardlaw  that  he  was  most  likely  only  a  petty 
chief,  whose  exploits  were  magnified  by  distance,  the  same 
as  the  caciques  in  Mexico.  But  the  schoolmaster  would  not 
accept  this. 

"He  must  have  been  a  big  man,  Davie.  You  know  that 
the  old  ruins  in  Rhodesia,  called  Zimbabwe,  were  long  be- 
lieved to  be  Phoenician  in  origin.  I  have  a  book  here  which 
tells  all  about  them.  But  now  it  is  believed  that  they  were 
built  by  natives.  I  maintain  that  the  men  who  could  erect 
piles  like  that'' — and  he  showed  me  a  picture — "were  some- 
thing more  than  petty  chiefs." 

Presently  the  object  of  this  conversation  appeared.  Mr. 
Wardlaw  thought  that  we  were  underrating  the  capacity 
of  the  native.    This  opinion  was  natural  enough  in  a  school- 


72  PRESTER  JOHN 

master,  but  not  in  the  precise  form  Wardlaw  put  it.  It 
was  not  his  intelligence  which  he  thought  we  underrated, 
but  his  dangerousness.  His  reasons,  shortly,  were  these: 
there  were  five  or  six  of  them  to  every  white  man;  they  were 
all,  roughly  speaking,  of  the  same  stock,  with  the  same  tribal 
beliefs  J  they  had  only  just  ceased  being  a  warrior  race,  with 
a  powerful  military  discipline  j  and,  most  important,  they 
lived  round  the  rim  of  the  high-veld  plateau,  and  if  they 
combined  could  cut  off  the  white  man  from  the  sea.  I 
pointed  out  to  him  that  it  would  only  be  a  matter  of  time 
before  we  opened  the  road  again.  "Ay,"  he  said,  "but 
think  of  what  would  happen  before  then.  Think  of  the 
lonely  farms  and  the  little  dorps  wiped  out  of  the  map.  It 
would  be  a  second  and  bloodier  Indian  Mutiny. 

"Pm  not  saying  it's  likely,"  he  went  on,  "but  I  main- 
tain it's  possible.  Supposing  a  second  Chaka  turned  up, 
who  could  get  the  different  tribes  to  work  together.  It 
wouldn't  be  so  very  hard  to  smuggle  in  arms.  Think  of  the 
long,  unwatched  coast  in  Gazaland  and  Tongaland.  If  they 
got  a  leader  with  prestige  enough  to  organise  a  crusade 
against  the  white  man,  I  don't  see  what  could  prevent  a 
rising." 

"We  should  get  wind  of  it  in  time  to  crush  it  at  the 
start,"  I  said. 

"I'm  not  so  sure.  They  are  cunning  fellows,  and  have 
arts  that  we  know  nothing  about.  You  have  heard  of  native 
telepathy.  They  can  send  news  over  a  thousand  miles  as 
quick  as  the  telegraph,  and  we  have  no  means  of  tapping 
the  wires.  If  they  ever  combined  they  could  keep  it  as 
secret  as  the  grave.     My  houseboy  might  be  in  the  rising, 


MR.  WARDLAW^S  PREMONITION  73 

and  I  would  never  suspect  it  till  one  fine  morning  he  cut 
my  throat." 

"But  they  would  never  find  a  leader.  If  there  was  some 
exiled  prince  of  Chaka's  blood,  who  came  back  like  Prince 
Charlie  to  free  his  people,  there  might  be  danger  j  but  their 
royalties  are  fat  men  with  top  hats  and  old  frock  coats,  who 
live  in  dirty  locations." 

Wardlaw  admitted  this,  but  said  that  there  might  be 
other  kinds  of  leaders.  He  had  been  reading  a  lot  about 
Ethiopianism,  which  educated  American  negroes  had  been 
trying  to  preach  in  South  Africa.  He  did  not  see  why  a  kind 
of  bastard  Christianity  should  not  be  the  motive  of  a  rising. 
"The  Kaffir  finds  it  an  easy  job  to  mix  up  Christian  emotion 
and  pagan  practice.  Look  at  Hayti  and  some  of  the  per- 
formances in  the  Southern  States." 

Then  he  shook  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe  and  leaned  for- 
ward with  a  solemn  face.  "I'll  admit  the  truth  to  you, 
Davie.     Pm  black  afraid." 

He  looked  so  earnest  and  serious  sitting  there  with  his 
short-sighted  eyes  peering  at  me  that  I  could  not  help  being 
impressed. 

"Whatever  is  the  matter?"  I  asked.  "Has  anything 
happened.?" 

He  shook  his  head.  "Nothing  I  can  put  a  name  to.  But 
I  have  a  presentiment  that  some  mischief  is  afoot  in  these 
hills.     I  feel  it  in  my  bones." 

I  confess  I  was  startled  by  these  words.  You  must  re- 
member that  I  had  never  given  a  hint  of  my  suspicions 
to  Mr.  Wardlaw  beyond  asking  him  if  a  wizard  lived  in  the 
neighbourhood — a  question  anybody  might  have  put.     But 


74  PRESTER  JOHN 

here  was  the  schoolmaster  discovering  for  himself  some 
mystery  in  Blaauwildebeestefontein. 

I  tried  to  get  at  his  evidence,  but  it  was  very  little.  He 
thought  there  were  an  awful  lot  of  blacks  about.  "The 
woods  are  full  of  them/^  he  said.  I  gathered  he  did  not 
imagine  he  was  being  spied  on,  but  merely  felt  that  there 
were  more  natives  about  than  could  be  explained. 

"There's  another  thing,"  he  said.  "The  native  bairns 
have  all  left  the  school.  Pve  only  three  scholars  left,  and 
they  are  from  Dutch  farms.  I  went  to  Majinje  to  find  out 
what  was  up,  and  an  old  crone  told  me  the  place  was  full  of 
bad  men.  I  tell  you,  Davie,  there's  something  brewing,  and 
that  something  is  not  good  for  us." 

There  was  nothing  new  to  me  in  what  Wardlaw  had 
to  tell,  and  yet  that  talk  late  at  night  by  a  dying  fire  made 
me  feel  afraid  for  the  second  time  since  I  had  come  to  Blaau^ 
wildebeestefontein.  I  had  a  clue  and  had  been  on  the  look- 
out for  mysteries,  but  that  another  should  feel  the  strange- 
ness for  himself  made  it  seem  desperately  real  to  me.  Of 
course  I  scoffed  at  Mr.  Wardlaw's  fears.  I  could  not  have 
him  spoiling  all  my  plans  by  crying  up  a  native  rising  for 
which  he  had  not  a  scrap  of  evidence. 

"Have  you  been  writing  to  anybody?"  I  asked  him. 

He  said  that  he  had  told  no  one,  but  he  meant  to,  unless 
things  got  better.  "I  haven't  the  nerve  for  this  job,  Davie," 
he  said;  "I'll  have  to  resign.  And  it's  a  pity,  for  the  place 
suits  my  health  fine.  You  see  I  know  too  much,  and  I  haven't 
your  whinstone  nerve  and  total  lack  of  imagination." 

I  told  him  that  it  was  simply  fancy,  and  came  from  read- 
ing too  many  books  and  taking  too  little  exercise.     But  I 


MR.  WARDLAW'S  PREMONITION  IS 

made  him  promise  to  say  nothing  to  anybody  either  by  word 
of  mouth  or  letter,  without  telling  me  first.  Then  I  made 
a  rummer  of  toddy  and  sent  him  to  bed  a  trifle  comforted. 
The  first  thing  I  did  in  my  new  room  was  to  shift  the 
bed  into  the  corner  out  of  line  with  the  window.  There 
were  no  shutters,  so  I  put  up  an  old  table  top  and  jammed  it 
between  the  window  frames.  Also,  I  loaded  my  shotgun 
and  kept  it  by  my  bedside.  Had  Wardlaw  seen  these  prep- 
arations he  might  have  thought  more  of  my  imagination  and 
less  of  my  nerve.  It  was  a  real  comfort  to  me  to  put  out 
a  hand  in  the  darkness  and  feel  Colin's  shaggy  coat. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE   DRUMS   BEAT  AT  SUNSET 

Japp  was  drunk  for  the  next  day  or  two,  and  I  had  the 

business  of  the  store  to  myself.     I  was  glad  of  this,  for  it 

gave  me  leisure  to  reflect  upon  the  various  perplexities  of 

my  situation.    As  I  have  said,  I  was  really  scared,  more  out 

of  a  sense  of  impotence  than  from  dread  of  actual  danger. 

I  was  in  a  fog  of  uncertainty.     Things  were  happening 

around  me  which  I  could  only  dimly  guess  at,  and  I  had  no 

power  to  take  one  step  in  defence.     That  Wardlaw  should 

have  felt  the  same  without  any  hint  from  me  was  the  final 

proof  that  the  mystery  was  no  figment  of  my  nerves.     I 

had  written  to  Colles  and  got  no  answer.     Now  the  letter 

with  Japp's  resignation  in  it  had  gone  to  Durban.     Surely 

some  notice  would  be  taken  of  that.     If  I  was  given  the 

post,  Colles  was  bound  to  consider  what  I  had  said  in  my 

earlier  letter  and  give  me  some  directions.     Meanwhile  it 

was  my  business  to  stick  to  my  job  till  I  was  relieved. 

A  change  had  come  over  the  place  during  my  absence. 

The  natives  had  almost  disappeared  from  sight.     Except 

the  few  families  living  round  Blaauwildebeestefontein  one 

never  saw  a  native  on  the  roads,  and  none  came  into  the 

store.     They  were  sticking  close  to  their  locations,  or  else 

they  had  gone  after  some  distant  business.     Except  a  batch 

of  three  Shangaans  returning  from  the  Rand,  I  had  nobody 

76 


THE  DRUMS  BEAT  AT  SUNSET  11 

in  the  store  for  the  whole  of  one  day.  So  about  four  o^clock 
I  shut  it  up,  whistled  to  Colin,  and  went  for  a  walk,  along 
the  Berg. 

If  there  were  no  natives  on  the  road,  there  were  plenty 
in  the  bush.  I  had  the  impression,  of  which  Wardlaw  had 
spoken,  that  the  native  population  of  the  countryside  had 
suddenly  been  hugely  increased.  The  woods  were  simply 
hotching  with  them.  I  was  being  spied  on  as  before,  but 
now  there  were  so  many  at  the  business  that  they  could  not 
all  conceal  their  tracks.  Every  now  and  then  I  had  a  glimpse 
of  a  black  shoulder  or  leg  and  Colin,  whom  I  kept  on  the 
leash,  was  half  mad  with  excitement.  I  had  seen  all  I 
wanted,  and  went  home  with  a  preoccupied  mind.  I  sat 
long  on  Wardlaw's  garden-seat,  trying  to  puzzle  out  the 
truth  of  this  spying. 

What  perplexed  me  was  that  I  had  been  left  unmolested 
when  I  had  gone  to  Umvelos\  Now,  as  I  conjectured,  the 
secret  of  the  neighbourhood,  whatever  it  was,  was  probably 
connected  with  the  Roorirand.  But  when  I  had  ridden  in 
that  direction  and  had  spent  two  days  in  exploring,  no  one 
had  troubled  to  watch  me.  I  was  quite  certain  about  this, 
for  my  eye  had  grown  quick  to  note  espionage,  and  it  is 
harder  for  a  spy  to  hide  in  the  spare  bush  of  the  flats  than 
in  the  dense  thickets  on  these  uplands. 

The  watchers,  then,  did  not  mind  my  fossicking  round 
their  sacred  place.  Why,  then,  was  I  so  closely  watched 
in  the  harmless  neighbourhood  of  the  store?  I  thought  for 
a  long  time  before  an  answer  occurred  to  me.  The  reason 
must  be  that  going  to  the  plains  I  was  going  into  native 
country  and  away  from  civilisation.    But  Blaauwildebeeste- 


78  PRESTER  JOHN 

fontein  was  near  the  frontier.  There  must  be  some  dark 
business  brewing  of  which  they  may  have  feared  that  I  had 
an  inkling.  They  wanted  to  see  if  I  proposed  to  go  to  Pieters- 
dorp  or  Wesselsburg  and  tell  what  I  knew,  and  they  clearly 
were  resolved  that  I  should  not.  I  laughed,  I  remember, 
thinking  that  they  had  forgotten  the  post  bag.  But  then  I 
reflected  that  I  knew  nothing  of  what  might  be  happening 
daily  to  the  post  bag. 

When  I  had  reached  this  conclusion,  my  first  impulse 
was  to  test  it  by  riding  straight  west  on  the  main  road.  If 
I  was  right,  I  should  certainly  be  stopped.  On  second 
thoughts,  however,  this  seemed  to  me  to  be  flinging  up  the 
game  prematurely,  and  I  resolved  to  wait  a  day  or  two  be- 
fore acting. 

Next  day  nothing  happened,  save  that  my  sense  of  lone- 
liness increased.  I  felt  that  I  was  being  hemmed  in  by 
barbarism,  and  cut  off  in  a  ghoulish  land  from  the  succour 
of  my  own  kind.  I  only  kept  my  courage  up  by  the  necessity 
of  presenting  a  brave  face  to  Mr.  Wardlaw,  who  was  by 
this  time  in  a  very  broken  condition  of  nerves.  I  had  often 
thought  that  it  was  my  duty  to  advise  him  to  leave,  and  to 
see  him  safely  off,  but  I  shrank  from  severing  myself  from 
my  only  friend.  I  thought,  too,  of  the  few  Dutch  farmers 
within  riding  distance,  and  had  half  a  mind  to  visit  them, 
but  they  were  far  over  the  plateau  and  could  know  little  of 
my  anxieties. 

The  third  day  events  moved  faster.  Japp  was  sober  and 
wonderfully  quiet.  He  gave  me  good  morning  quite  in  a 
friendly  tone,  and  set  to  posting  up  the  books  as  if  he  had 
never  misbehaved  in  his  days.      I   was  so  busy  with  my 


THE  DRUMS  BEAT  AT  SUNSET  79 

thoughts  that  I,  too,  must  have  been  gentler  than  usual, 
and  the  morning  passed  like  a  honeymoon  till  I  went  across 
to  dinner. 

I  was  just  sitting  down  when  I  remembered  that  I  had 
left  my  watch  in  my  waistcoat  behind  the  counter,  and  started 
to  go  back  for  it.  But  at  the  door  I  stopped  short.  For 
two  horsemen  had  drawn  up  before  the  store. 

One  was  a  native  with  what  I  took  to  be  saddlebags; 
the  other  was  a  small  slim  man  with  a  sunhelmet,  who  was 
slowly  dismounting.  Something  in  the  cut  of  his  jib  struck 
me  as  familiar.  I  slipped  into  the  empty  schoolroom  and 
stared  hard.  Then,  as  he  half-turned  in  handing  his  bridle 
to  the  Kaffir,  I  got  a  sight  of  his  face.  It  was  my  former 
shipmate,  Henriques.  He  said  something  to  his  companion, 
and  entered  the  store. 

You  may  imagine  that  my  curiosity  ran  to  fever-heat. 
My  first  impulse  was  to  march  over  for  my  waistcoat,  and 
make  a  third  with  Japp  at  the  interview.  Happily  I  re- 
flected in  time  that  Henriques  knew  my  face,  for  I  had  grown 
no  beard,  having  a  great  dislike  to  needless  hair.  If  he  was 
one  of  the  villains  in  the  drama,  he  would  mark  me  down  for 
his  vengeance  once  he  knew  I  was  here,  whereas  at  present 
he  had  probably  forgotten  all  about  me.  Besides,  if  I  walked 
in  boldly  I  would  get  no  news.  If  Japp  and  he  had  a  secret, 
they  would  not  blab  it  in  my  presence. 

My  next  idea  was  to  slip  in  by  the  back  to  the  room 
I  had  once  lived  in.  But  how  was  I  to  cross  the  road?  It 
ran  white  and  dry  some  distance  each  way  in  full  view  of 
the  Kaffir  with  the  horses.  Further,  the  store  stood  on  a 
bare  patch  and  it  would  be  a  hard  job  to  get  in  by  the  back, 


80  PRESTER  JOHN 

assuming,  as  I  believed,  that  the  neighbourhood  was  thick 
with  spies. 

The  upshot  was  that  I  got  my  glasses  and  turned  them 
on  the  store.  The  door  was  open,  and  so  was  the  window. 
In  the  gloom  of  the  interior  I  made  out  Henriques'  legs. 
He  was  standing  by  the  counter,  and  apparently  talking  to 
Japp.  He  moved  to  shut  the  door,  and  came  back  inside 
my  focus  opposite  the  window.  There  he  stayed  for  maybe 
ten  minutes,  while  I  hugged  my  impatience.  I  would  have 
given  a  hundred  pounds  to  be  snug  in  my  old  room  with  Japp 
thinking  me  out  of  the  store. 

Suddenly  the  legs  twitched  up,  and  his  boots  appeared 
above  the  counter.  Japp  had  invited  him  to  his  bedroom, 
and  the  game  was  now  to  be  played  beyond  my  ken.  This 
was  more  than  I  could  stand,  so  I  stole  out  at  the  back  door 
and  took  to  the  thickest  bush  on  the  hillside.  My  notion 
was  to  cross  the  road  half  a  mile  down,  where  it  had  dropped 
into  the  defile  of  the  stream,  and  then  to  come  swiftly  up 
the  edge  of  the  water  so  as  to  effect  a  back  entrance  into 
the  store. 

As  fast  as  I  dared  I  tore  through  the  bush,  and  in  about 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  had  reached  the  point  I  was  making 
for.  Then  I  bore  down  to  the  road,  and  was  in  the  scrub 
about  ten  yards  off  it,  when  the  clatter  of  horses  pulled  me 
up  again.  Peeping  out  I  saw  that  it  was  my  friend  and  his 
Kaffir  follower,  who  were  riding  at  a  very  good  pace  for  the 
plains.  Toilfully  and  crossly  I  returned  on  my  tracks  to 
my  long  delayed  dinner.  Whatever  the  purport  of  their 
talk,  Japp  and  the  Portuguese  had  not  taken  long  over  it. 

In  the  store  that  afternoon  I  said  casually  to  Japp  that 


THE  DRUMS  BEAT  AT  SUNSET  81 

I  had  noticed  visitors  at  the  door  during  my  dinner  hour. 
The  old  man  looked  me  frankly  enough  in  the  face.  "Yes, 
it  was  Mr.  Hendricks/'  he  said,  and  explained  that  the  man 
was  a  Portuguese  trader  from  Delagoa  way,  who  had  a  lot 
of  Kaffir  stores  east  of  the  Lebombo  Hills.  I  asked  his 
business,  and  was  told  that  he  always  gave  Japp  a  call  in 
when  he  was  passing. 

"Do  you  take  every  man  that  calls  into  your  bedroom, 
and  shut  the  door?"  I  asked. 

Japp  lost  colour  and  his  lip  trembled.  "I  swear  to  God, 
Mr.  Crawfurd,  I've  been  doing  nothing  wrong.  I've  kept 
the  promise  I  gave  you  like  an  oath  to  my  mother.  I  see 
you  suspect  me,  and  maybe  you've  cause,  but  I'll  be  quite 
honest  with  you.  I  have  dealt  in  diamonds  before  this  with 
Hendricks.  But  to-day,  when  he  asked  me,  I  told  him  that 
that  business  was  off.  I  only  took  him  to  my  room  to  give 
him  a  drink.  He  likes  brandy,  and  there's  no  supply  in 
the  shop." 

I  distrusted  Japp  wholeheartedly  enough,  but  I  was  con- 
vinced that  in  this  case  he  spoke  the  truth. 

"Had  the  man  any  news?"  I  asked. 

"He  had  and  he  hadn't,"  said  Japp.  "He  was  always 
a  sullen  beggar,  and  never  spoke  much.  But  he  said  one 
queer  thing.  He  asked  me  if  I  was  going  to  retire,  and 
when  I  told  him  ^yes,'  he  said  I  had  put  it  off  rather  long. 
I  told  him  I  was  as  healthy  as  I  ever  was,  and  he  laughed  in 
his  dirty  Portugoose  way.  ^Yes,  Mr.  Japp,'  he  says,  *but  the 
country  is  not  so  healthy.'  I  wonder  what  the  chap  meant. 
He'll  be  dead  of  blackwater  before  many  months,  to  judge 
by  his  eyes." 


82  PRESTER  JOHN 

This  talk  satisfied  me  about  Japp,  who  was  clearly  in 
desperate  fear  of  offending  me,  and  disinclined  to  return 
for  the  present  to  his  old  ways.  But  I  think  the  rest  of  the 
afternoon  was  the  most  wretched  time  in  my  existence.  It 
was  as  plain  as  daylight  that  we  were  in  for  some  grave 
trouble,  trouble  to  which  I  believed  that  I  alone  held  any 
kind  of  clue.  I  had  a  pile  of  evidence — the  visit  of  Hen- 
riques  was  the  last  bit — which  pointed  to  some  great  secret 
approaching  its  disclosure.  I  thought  that  that  disclosure 
meant  blood  and  ruin.  But  I  knew  nothing  definite.  If  the 
commander  of  a  British  army  had  come  to  me  then  and 
there  and  offered  help,  I  could  have  done  nothing,  only 
asked  him  to  wait  like  me.  The  peril,  whatever  it  was,  did 
not  threaten  me  only,  though  I  and  Wardlaw  and  Japp  might 
be  the  first  to  suffer  j  but  I  had  a  terrible  feeling  that  I  alone 
could  do  something  to  ward  it  off,  and  just  what  that  some- 
thing was  I  could  not  tell.  I  was  horribly  afraid,  not  only 
of  unknown  death,  but  of  my  impotence  to  play  any  manly 
part.  I  was  alone,  knowing  too  much  and  yet  too  little,  and 
there  was  no  chance  of  help  under  the  broad  sky.  I  cursed 
myself  for  not  writing  to  Aitken  at  Lourengo  Marques  weeks 
before.  He  had  promised  to  come  up,  and  he  was  the  kind 
of  man  who  kept  his  word. 

In  the  late  afternoon  I  dragged  Wardlaw  out  for  a  walk. 
In  his  presence  I  had  to  keep  up  a  forced  cheerfulness,  and 
I  believe  the  pretence  did  me  good.  We  took  a  path  up  the 
Berg  among  groves  of  stinkwood  and  essenwood,  where  a 
falling  stream  made  an  easy  route.  It  may  have  been  fancy, 
but  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  wood  was  emptier  and  that 
we  were  followed  less  closely.     I  remember  it  was  a  lovely 


THE  DRUMS  BEAT  AT  SUNSET  83 

evening,  and  in  the  clear  fragrant  gloaming  every  foreland 
of  the  Berg  stood  out  like  a  great  ship  above  the  dark  green 
sea  of  the  bush.  When  we  reached  the  edge  of  the  plateau 
w^e  saw  the  sun  sinking  between  two  far  blue  peaks  in  Maka- 
pan's  Country,  and  away  to  the  south  the  great  roll  of  the 
high  veld.  I  longed  miserably  for  that  country  where  white 
men  were  thronged  together  in  dorps  and  cities. 

As  we  gazed  a  curious  sound  struck  our  ears.  It  seemed 
to  begin  far  up  in  the  north — a  low  roll  like  the  combing 
of  breakers  on  the  sand.  Then  it  grew  louder  and  travelled 
nearer — a  roll,  with  sudden  spasms  of  harsher  sound  in  itj 
reminding  me  of  the  churning  in  one  of  the  pot  holes  of 
Kirkcaple  cliffs.  Presently  it  grew  softer  again  as  the  sound 
passed  south,  but  new  notes  were  always  emerging.  The 
echo  came  sometimes,  as  it  were,  from  stark  rock,  and 
sometimes  from  the  deep  gloom  of  the  forests.  I  have  never 
heard  an  eerier  sound.  Neither  natural  nor  human  it  seemed, 
but  the  voice  of  that  world  between  which  is  hid  from  man's 
sight  and  hearing. 

Mr.  Wardlaw  clutched  my  arm,  and  in  that  moment  I 
guessed  the  explanation.  The  native  drums  were  beating, 
passing  some  message  from  the  far  north  down  the  line  of 
the  Berg,  where  the  locations  were  thickest,  to  the  great 
black  populations  of  the  south. 

"But  that  means  war,"  Mr.  Wardlaw  cried. 

"It  means  nothing  of  the  kind,''  I  said  shortly.  "It's 
their  way  of  sending  news.  It's  as  likely  to  be  some  change 
in  the  weather  or  an  outbreak  of  cattle  disease." 

When  we  got  home  I  found  Japp  with  a  face  like  grey 
paper.     "Did  you  hear  the  drums? "  he  asked. 


84  PRESTER  JOHN 

"Yes,"  I  said  shortly.     "What  about  them?" 

"God  forgive  you  for  an  ignorant  Britisher!"  he  al- 
most shouted.  "You  may  hear  drums  any  night,  but  a  drum- 
ming like  that  I  only  once  heard  before.  It  was  in  '79  in 
the  'Zeti  valley.  Do  you  know  what  happened  next  day? 
Cetewayo's  impis  came  over  the  hills,  and  in  an  hour  there 
wasn't  a  living  white  soul  in  the  glen.  Two  men  escaped 
and  one  of  them  was  called  Peter  Japp." 

"We  are  in  God's  hands  then,  and  must  wait  on  His 
will,"  I  said  solemnly. 

There  was  no  more  sleep  for  Wardlaw  and  myself  that 
night.  We  made  the  best  barricade  we  could  of  the  windows, 
loaded  all  our  weapons,  and  trusted  to  Colin  to  give  us  early 
news.  Before  supper  I  went  over  to  get  Japp  to  join  us, 
but  found  that  that  worthy  had  sought  help  from  his  old 
protector,  the  bottle,  and  was  already  sound  asleep  with  both 
door  and  window  open. 

I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  death  was  certain,  and  yet 
my  heart  belied  my  conviction,  and  I  could  not  feel  the 
appropriate  mood.  If  anything,  I  was  more  cheerful  since 
I  had  heard  the  drums.  It  was  clearly  now  beyond  the 
power  of  me  or  any  man  to  stop  the  march  of  events.  My 
thoughts  ran  on  a  native  rising,  and  I  kept  telling  myself 
how  little  that  was  probable.  Where  were  the  arms,  the 
leader,  the  discipline?  At  any  rate  such  arguments  put  me 
to  sleep  before  dawn,  and  I  wakened  at  eight  to  find  that 
nothing  had  happened.  The  clear  morning  sunlight,  as  of 
old,  made  Blaauwildebeestefontein  the  place  of  a  dream. 
Zeeta  brought  in  my  cup  of  coffee  as  if  this  day  were  just 
like  all  others,  my  pipe  tasted  as  sweet,  the  fresh  air  from 


THE  DRUMS  BEAT  AT  SUNSET  85 

the  Berg  blew  as  fragrantly  on  my  brow.  I  went  over  to 
the  store  in  reasonably  good  spirits,  leaving  Wardlaw  busy 
on  the  penitential  Psalms. 

The  post-runner  had  brought  the  mail  as  usual,  and  there 
was  one  private  letter  for  me.  I  opened  it  with  great  excite- 
ment, for  the  envelope  bore  the  stamp  of  the  firm.  At  last 
Colles  had  deigned  to  answer. 

Inside  was  a  sheet  of  the  firm's  notepaper,  with  the  signa- 
ture of  Colles  across  the  top.  Below  someone  had  pencilled 
these  five  words: 

^^The  Blesbok .  *  are  changing  ground?'^ 

I  looked  to  see  that  Japp  had  not  suffocated  himself, 
then  shut  up  the  store,  and  went  back  to  my  room  to  think 
out  this  new  mystification. 

The  thing  had  come  from  Colles,  for  it  was  the  private 
notepaper  of  the  Durban  office,  and  there  was  Colles'  signa- 
ture. But  the  pencilling  was  in  a  different  hand.  My 
deduction  from  this  was  that  some  one  wished  to  send  me  a 
message,  and  that  Colles  had  given  that  some  one  a  sheet 
of  signed  paper  to  serve  as  a  kind  of  introduction.  I  might 
take  it,  therefore,  that  the  scribble  was  Colles'  reply  to 
my  letter. 

Now,  my  argument  continued,  if  the  unknown  person 
saw  fit  to  send  me  a  message,  it  could  not  be  merely  one 
of  warning.  Colles  must  have  told  him  that  I  was  awake 
to  some  danger,  and  as  I  was  in  Blaauwildebeestefontein,  I 
must  be  nearer  the  heart  of  things  than  any  one  else.     The 

*  A  species  of  buck. 


86  PRESTER  JOHN 

message  must  therefore  be  in  the  nature  of  some  password, 
which  I  was  to  remember  when  I  heard  it  again. 

I  reasoned  the  whole  thing  out  very  clearly,  and  I  saw 
no  gap  in  my  logic.  I  cannot  describe  how  that  scribble 
had  heartened  me.  I  felt  no  more  the  crushing  isolation  of 
yesterday.  There  were  others  beside  me  in  the  secret.  Help 
must  be  on  the  w^ay,  and  the  letter  was  the  first  tidings. 

But  how  near? — that  was  the  question  j  and  it  occurred 
to  me  for  the  first  time  to  look  at  the  postmark.  I  went 
back  to  the  store  and  got  the  envelope  out  of  the  waste-paper 
basket.  The  postmark  was  certainly  not  Durban.  The 
stamp  was  a  Cape  Colony  one,  and  of  the  mark  I  could  only 
read  three  letters,  T.R.S.  This  was  no  sort  of  clue,  and 
I  turned  the  thing  over,  completely  baffled.  Then  I  noticed 
that  there  was  no  mark  of  the  post  town  of  delivery.  Our 
letters  to  Blaauv/ildebeestefontein  came  through  Pietersdorp, 
and  bore  that  mark.  I  compared  the  envelope  with  others. 
They  all  had  a  circle,  and  "Pietersdorp"  in  broad  black  let- 
ters.    But  this  envelope  had  nothing  except  the  stamp. 

I  was  still  slow  at  detective  work,  and  it  was  some  min- 
utes before  the  explanation  flashed  on  me.  The  letter  had 
never  been  posted  at  all.  The  stamp  was  a  fake,  and  had 
been  borrowed  from  an  old  envelope.  There  was  only  one 
way  in  which  it  could  have  come.  It  must  have  been  put  in 
the  letter-bag  while  the  postman  was  on  his  way  from 
Pietersdorp.  My  unknown  friend  must  therefore  be  some- 
where within  eighty  miles  of  me.  I  hurried  off  to  look  for 
the  post  runner,  but  he  had  started  back  an  hour  before. 
There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  wait  on  the  coming  of  the 
unknown. 


THE  DRUMS  BEAT  AT  SUNSET  87 

That  afternoon  I  again  took  Mr.  Wardlaw  for  a  walk. 
It  is  an  ingrained  habit  of  mine  that  I  never  tell  any  one 
more  of  a  business  than  is  practically  necessary.  For  months 
I  had  kept  all  my  knowledge  to  myself,  and  breathed  not 
a  word  to  a  soul.  But  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  tell  Ward- 
law  about  the  letter,  to  let  him  see  that  we  were  not  for- 
gotten. I  am  afraid  it  did  not  encourage  his  mind.  Occult 
messages  seemed  to  him  only  the  last  proof  of  a  deadly  danger 
encompassing  us,  and  I  could  not  shake  his  opinion. 

We  took  the  same  road  to  the  crown  of  the  Berg,  and 
I  was  confirmed  in  my  suspicion  that  the  woods  were  empty 
and  the  watchers  gone.  The  place  was  as  deserted  as  the 
bush  at  Umvelos'.  When  we  reached  the  summit  about 
sunset  we  waited  anxiously  for  the  sound  of  drums.  It  came, 
as  we  expected,  louder  and  more  menacing  than  before. 
Wardlaw  stood  pinching  my  arm  as  the  great  tattoo  swept 
down  the  escarpment,  and  died  away  in  the  far  mountains 
beyond  the  Olif  ants.  Yet  it  no  longer  seemed  to  be  a  wall  of 
sound,  shutting  us  out  from  our  kindred  in  the  West.  A 
message  had  pierced  the  wall.  If  the  blesbok  were  chang- 
ing ground,  I  believed  the  hunters  were  calling  out  their 
hounds  and  getting  ready  for  the  chase. 


CHAPTER  VII 

CAPTAIN  ARCOLL  TELLS  A  TALE 

It  froze  in  the  night,  harder  than  was  common  on  the  Berg 
even  in  winter,  and  as  I  crossed  the  road  next  morning  it  was 
covered  with  rime.  All  my  fears  had  gone,  and  my  mind 
was  strung  high  with  expectation.  Five  pencilled  words 
may  seem  a  small  thing  to  build  hope  on,  but  it  was  enough 
for  me,  and  I  went  about  my  work  in  the  store  with  a  rea- 
sonably light  heart.  One  of  the  first  things  I  did  was  to 
take  stock  of  our  armoury.  There  were  five  sporting 
Mausers  of  a  cheap  make,  one  Mauser  pistol,  a  Lee-Speed 
carbine,  and  a  little  nickel-plated  revolver.  There  was  also 
Japp's  shotgun,  an  old  hammered  breechloader,  as  well  as 
the  gun  I  had  brought  out  with  me.  There  was  a  good 
supply  of  cartridges,  including  a  stock  for  a  .400  express 
which  could  not  be  found.  I  pocketed  the  pistol,  and 
searched  till  I  discovered  a  good  sheath  knife.  If  fighting 
was  in  prospect  I  might  as  well  look  to  my  arms. 

All  the  morning  I  sat  among  flour  and  sugar  possessing 
my  soul  in  as  much  patience  as  I  could  command.  Nothing 
came  down  the  white  road  from  the  west.  The  sun  melted 
the  rime  J  the  flies  came  out  and  buzzed  in  the  window  5  Japp 
got  himself  out  of  bed,  and  brewed  strong  coflFee,  and  went 
back  to  his  slumbers.  Presently  it  was  dinner-time,  and  I 
went  over  to  a  silent  meal  with  Wardlaw.    When  I  returned 


ARCOLL  TELLS  A  TALE  89 

I  must  have  fallen  asleep  over  a  pipe,  for  the  next  thing 
I  knew  I  was  blinking  drowsily  at  the  patch  of  sun  in  the 
door,  and  listening  for  footsteps.  In  the  dead  stillness  of 
the  afternoon  I  thought  I  could  discern  a  shuffling  in  the 
dust.  I  got  up  and  looked  out,  and  there  sure  enough 
was  some  one  coming  down  the  road. 

But  it  was  only  a  Kaffir,  and  a  miserable  looking  object 
at  that.  I  had  never  seen  such  an  anatomy.  It  was  a  very 
old  man,  bent  almost  double,  and  clad  in  a  ragged  shirt  and 
a  pair  of  foul  khaki  trousers.  He  carried  an  iron  pot,  and 
a  few  belongings  were  tied  up  in  a  dirty  handkerchief.  He 
must  have  been  a  dacha  *-smoker,  for  he  coughed  hideously, 
twisting  his  body  with  the  paroxysms.  I  had  seen  the  type 
before — the  old  broken-down  native  who  had  no  kin  to  sup- 
port him,  and  no  tribe  to  shelter  him.  They  wander  about 
the  roads,  cooking  their  wretched  meals  by  their  little  fires, 
till  one  morning  they  are  found  stiff  under  a  bush. 

The  native  gave  me  good  day  in  Kaffir,  then  begged 
for  tobacco  or  a  handful  of  mealie-meal. 

I  asked  him  where  he  came  from. 

"From  the  west,  Inkoos,"  f  he  said,  "and  before  that 
from  the  south.     It  is  a  sore  road  for  old  bones." 

I  went  into  the  store  to  fetch  some  meal,  and  when  I 
came  out  he  had  shuffled  close  to  the  door.  He  had  kept  his 
eyes  on  the  ground,  but  now  he  looked  up  at  me,  and  I 
thought  he  had  very  bright  eyes  for  such  an  old  wreck. 

"The  nights  are  cold,  Inkoos,"  he  wailed,  "and  my  folk 
are  scattered,  and  I  have  no  kraal.  The  aasvogels  follow 
me,  and  I  can  hear  the  blesbok." 

•  Hemp.  t  Great  Chief, 


90  PRESTER  JOHN 

"What  about  the  blesbok?''  I  asked  with  a  start. 

"The  blesbok  are  changing  ground,"  he  said,  and  looked 
me  straight  in  the  face. 

"And  where  are  the  hunters?"  I  asked. 

"They  are  here  and  behind  me,"  he  said  in  Enghsh,  hold- 
ing out  his  pot  for  my  meal,  while  he  began  to  edge  into 
the  middle  of  the  road. 

I  followed  and,  speaking  English,  asked  him  if  he  knew 
of  a  man  called  Colles. 

"I  come  from  him,  young  Baas.  Where  is  your  house? 
Ah,  the  school.  There  will  be  a  way  in  by  the  back  window? 
See  that  it  is  open,  for  I'll  be  there  shortly."  Then  lifting 
up  his  voice  he  called  down  in  Sesuto  all  manner  of  blessings 
on  me  for  my  kindness,  and  went  shuffling  down  the  sunlit 
road,  coughing  like  a  volcano. 

In  high  excitement  I  locked  up  the  store  and  went  over 
to  Mr.  Wardlaw.  No  children  had  come  to  school  that 
day,  and  he  was  sitting  idle,  playing  patience.  "Lock  the 
door,"  I  said,  "and  come  into  my  room.  We're  on  the  brink 
of  explanations." 

In  about  twenty  minutes  the  bush  below  the  back  window 
parted  and  the  Kaffir  slipped  out.  He  grinned  at  me,  and 
after  a  glance  round,  hopped  very  nimbly  over  the  sill.  Then 
he  examined  the  window  and  pulled  the  curtains. 

"Is  the  outer  door  shut?"  he  asked  in  excellent  English. 
"Well,  get  me  some  hot  water,  and  any  spare  clothes  you  may 
possess,  Mr.  Crawfurd.  I  must  get  comfortable  before  we 
begin  our  hidaba,'^  We've  the  night  before  us,  so  there's 
plenty  of  time.    But  get  the  house  clear,  and  see  that  nobody 

•  Council. 


ARCOLL  TELLS  A  TALE  91 

disturbs  me  at  my  toilet.     I  am  a  modest  man,  and  sensitive 
about  my  looks." 

I  brought  him  what  he  wanted,  and  looked  on  at  an 
amazing  transformation.  Taking  a  phial  from  his  bundle, 
he  rubbed  some  liquid  on  his  face  and  neck  and  hands,  and 
got  rid  of  the  black  colouring.  His  body  and  legs  he  left  un- 
touched, save  that  he  covered  them  with  shirt  and  trousers 
from  my  wardrobe.  Then  he  pulled  off  a  scaly  wig,  and 
showed  beneath  it  a  head  of  close-cropped  grizzled  hair.  In 
ten  minutes  the  old  Kaffir  had  been  transformed  into  an 
active  soldierly-looking  man  of  maybe  fifty  years.  Mr. 
Wardlaw  stared  as  if  he  had  seen  a  resurrection. 

"I  had  better  introduce  myself,"  he  said,  when  he  had 
taken  the  edge  off  his  thirst  and  hunger.  "My  name  is  Ar- 
coll.  Captain  James  Arcoll.  I  am  speaking  to  Mr.  Craw- 
furd,  the  storekeeper,  and  Mr.  Wardlaw,  the  schoolmaster, 
of  Blaauwildebeestefontein.  Where,  by  the  way,  is  Mr. 
Peter  Japp?  Drunk?  Ah,  yes,  it  was  always  his  failing. 
The  quorum,  however,  is  complete  without  him." 

By  this  time  it  was  about  sunset,  and  I  remember  I  cocked 
my  ear  to  hear  the  drums  beat.  Captain  Arcoll  noticed  the 
movement  as  he  noticed  all  else. 

"You're  listening  for  the  drums,  but  you  won't  hear 
them.  That  business  is  over  here.  Tonight  they  beat  in 
Swaziland  and  down  into  the  Tonga  border.  Three  days 
more,  unless  you  and  I,  Mr.  Crawfurd,  are  extra  smart,  and 
they'll  be  hearing  them  in  Durban." 

It  was  not  till  the  lamp  was  lit,  the  fire  burning  well, 
and  the  house  locked  and  shuttered,  that  Captain  Arcoll 
began  his  tale. 


92  PRESTER  JOHN 

"First,"  he  said,  "let  me  hear  what  you  know.  Colles 
told  me  that  you  were  a  keen  fellow,  and  had  wind  of  some 
mystery  here.  You  wrote  him  about  the  way  you  were 
spied  on,  but  I  told  him  to  take  no  notice.  Your  affair, 
Mr.  Crawfurd,  had  to  wait  on  more  urgent  matters.  Now, 
what  do  you  think  is  happening?" 

I  spoke  very  shortly,  weighing  my  words,  for  I  felt  I 
was  on  trial  before  these  bright  eyes.  "I  think  that  some 
kind  of  native  rising  is  about  to  commence." 

"Ay,"  he  said  dryly,  "you  would,  and  your  evidence 
would  be  the  spying  and  drumming.    Anything  more?" 

"I  have  come  on  the  tracks  of  a  lot  of  I.D.B.  work  in 
the  neighbourhood.  The  natives  have  some  supply  of  dia- 
monds, which  they  sell  bit  by  bit,  and  I  don't  doubt  but  they 
have  been  getting  guns  with  the  proceeds." 

He  nodded.  "Have  you  any  notion  who  has  been  en- 
gaged in  the  job?" 

I  had  it  on  my  tongue  to  mention  Japp  but  forebore, 
remembering  my  promise.  "I  can  name  one,"  I  said,  "a 
little  yellow  Portugoose,  who  calls  himself  Henriques  or 
Hendricks.     He  passed  by  here  the  day  before  yesterday." 

Captain  Arcoll  suddenly  was  consumed  with  quiet 
laughter.  "Did  you  notice  the  Kaffir  who  rode  with  him 
and  carried  his  saddlebags?  Well,  he's  one  of  my  men. 
Henriques  would  have  a  fit  if  he  knew  what  was  in  those 
saddlebags.  They  contain  my  change  of  clothes,  and  other 
odds  and  ends.  Henriques'  own  stuff  is  in  a  hole  in  the 
spruit.  A  handy  way  of  getting  one's  luggage  sent  on,  eh? 
The  bags  are  waiting  for  me  at  a  place  I  appointed."    And 


ARCOLL  TELLS  A  TALE  93 

again  Captain  Arcoll  indulged  his  sense  of  humour.     Then 
he  became  grave,  and  returned  to  his  examination. 

"A  rising,  with  diamonds  as  the  sinews  of  war,  and 
Henriques  as  the  chief  agent.  Well  and  good!  But  who 
is  to  lead,  and  what  are  the  natives  going  to  rise  about?" 

"I  know  nothing  further,  but  I  have  made  some  guesses." 

"Let's  hear  your  guesses,"  he  said,  blowing  smoke  rings 
from  his  pipe. 

"I  think  the  main  mover  is  a  great  black  minister  who 
calls  himself  John  Laputa." 

Captain  Arcoll  nearly  sprang  out  of  his  chair.  "Now, 
how  on  earth  did  you  find  that  out?  Quick,  Mr.  Crawfurd, 
tell  me  all  you  know,  for  this  is  desperately  important." 

I  began  at  the  beginning,  and  told  him  the  story  of  what 
happened  on  the  Kirkcaple  shore.  Then  I  spoke  of  my  sight 
of  him  on  board  ship,  his  talk  with  Henriques  about  Blaau- 
wildebeestefontein,  and  his  hurried  departure  from  Durban. 

Captain  Arcoll  listened  intently,  and  at  the  mention  of 
Durban  he  laughed.  "You  and  I  seem  to  have  been  run- 
ning on  lines  which  nearly  touched.  I  thought  I  had  grabbed 
my  friend  Laputa  that  night  in  Durban,  but  I  was  too  cock- 
sure and  he  slipped  off.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Crawfurd,  you 
have  been  on  the  right  trail  long  before  me?  When  did 
you  say  you  saw  him  at  his  devil-worship?  Seven  years  ago? 
Then  you  were  the  first  man  alive  to  know  the  Reverend 
John  in  his  true  colours.  You  knew  seven  years  ago  what 
I  only  found  out  last  year." 

"Well,  that's  my  story,"  I  said.  "I  don't  know  what 
the  rising  is  about,  but  there's  one  other  thing  I  can  tell  you. 
There's  some  kind  of  sacred  place  for  the  Kaffirs,  and  I've 


94  PRESTER  JOHN 

found  out  where  it  is."  I  gave  him  a  short  account  of  my 
adventures  in  the  Rooirand. 

He  smoked  silently  for  a  bit  after  I  had  finished. 
"YouVe  got  the  skeleton  of  the  w^hole  thing  right,  and  you 
only  want  the  filling  up.  And  you  found  out  everything 
for  yourself?  Colles  was  right j  you're  not  wanting  in  intelli- 
gence, Mr.  Crawfurd." 

It  was  not  much  of  a  compliment,  but  I  have  never  been 
more  pleased  in  my  life.  This  slim,  grizzled  man,  with  his 
wrinkled  face  and  bright  eyes,  was  clearly  not  lavish  in  his 
praise.  I  felt  it  was  no  small  thing  to  have  earned  a  word 
of  commendation. 

"And  now  I  will  tell  you  my  story,"  said  Captain  Arcoll. 
"It  is  a  long  story,  and  I  must  begin  far  back.  It  has  taken 
me  years  to  decipher  it,  and,  remember,  I've  been  all  my  life 
at  this  native  business.  I  can  talk  every  dialect,  and  I  have 
the  customs  of  every  tribe  by  heart.  I've  travelled  over  every 
mile  of  South  Africa,  and  Central  and  East  Africa  too.  I 
was  in  both  the  Matabele  wars,  and  I've  seen  a  heap  of  other 
fighting  which  never  got  into  the  papers.  So  what  I  tell  you 
you  can  take  as  gospel,  for  it  is  knowledge  that  was  not 
learned  in  a  day." 

He  puffed  away,  and  then  asked  suddenly,  "Did  you 
ever  hear  of  Prester  John?" 

"The  man  that  lived  in  Central  Asia?"  I  asked,  with 
a  reminiscence  of  a  story  book  I  had  as  a  boy. 

"No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Wardlaw,  "he  means  the  king  of 
Abyssinia  in  the  fifteenth  century.  I've  been  reading  all 
about  him.  He  was  a  Christian,  and  the  Portuguese  sent 
expedition  after  expedition  to  find  him,  buj:  they  never  got 


ARCOLL  TELLS  A  TALE  95 

there.  Albuquerque  wanted  to  make  an  alliance  with  him 
and  capture  the  Holy  Sepulchre." 

Arcoll  nodded.  "That's  the  one  I  mean.  There's  not 
very  much  known  about  him,  except  Portuguese  legends. 
He  was  a  sort  of  Christian,  but  I  expect  that  his  practices 
were  as  pagan  as  his  neighbours'.  There  is  no  doubt  that  he 
was  a  great  conqueror.  Under  him  and  his  successors  the 
empire  of  Ethiopia  extended  far  south  of  Abyssinia  away 
down  to  the  Great  Lakes." 

"How  long  did  this  power  last?"  I  asked,  wondering  to 
what  tale  this  was  prologue. 

"That's  a  mystery  no  scholar  has  ever  been  able  to 
fathom.  Anyhow,  the  centre  of  authority  began  to  shift 
southward,  and  the  warrior  tribes  moved  in  that  direction. 
At  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century  the  chief  native  power 
was  round  about  the  Zambesi.  The  Mazimba  and  the 
Makaranga  had  come  down  from  the  Lake  Nyassa  quarter, 
and  there  was  a  strong  kingdom  in  Manicaland.  That  was 
the  Monomotapa  that  the  Portuguese  thought  so  much  of." 

Wardlaw  nodded  eagerly.  The  story  was  getting  into 
ground  that  he  knew  about. 

"The  thing  to  remember  is  that  all  these  little  empires 
thought  themselves  the  successors  of  Prester  John.  It  took 
me  a  long  time  to  find  this  out,  and  I  have  spent  days  in 
the  best  libraries  in  Europe  over  it.  They  all  looked  back 
to  a  great  king  in  the  north,  whom  they  called  by  about 
twenty  different  names.  They  had  forgotten  all  about  his 
Christianity,  but  they  remembered  that  he  was  a  conqueror. 

"Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  Monomotapa  disap- 
peared in  time,  and  fresh  tribes  came  down  from  the  north, 


96  PRESTER  JOHN 

and  pushed  right  down  to  Natal  and  the  Cape.  That  is 
how  the  Zulus  first  appeared.  They  brought  with  them 
the  story  of  Prester  John,  but  by  this  time  it  had  ceased  to  be 
a  historical  memory,  and  had  become  a  religious  cult.  They 
worshipped  a  great  Power  who  had  been  their  ancestor,  and 
the  favourite  Zulu  word  for  him  was  Umkulunkulu.  The 
belief  was  perverted  into  fifty  different  forms,  but  this  was 
the  central  creed — that  Umkulunkulu  had  been  the  father 
of  the  tribe,  and  was  alive  as  a  spirit  to  watch  over  them. 

"They  brought  more  than  a  creed  with  them.  Somehow 
or  other,  some  fetich  had  descended  from  Prester  John  by 
way  of  the  Mazimba  and  Angoni  and  Makaranga.  What 
it  is  I  do  not  know,  but  it  was  always  in  the  hands  of  the 
tribe  which  for  the  moment  held  the  leadership.  The  great 
native  wars  of  the  sixteenth  century,  which  you  can  read 
about  in  the  Portuguese  historians,  were  not  for  territory  but 
for  leadership,  and  mainly  for  the  possession  of  this  fetich. 
Anyhow,  we  know  that  the  Zulus  brought  it  down  with 
them.  They  called  it  Ndhlofidhlo^  which  means  the  Great 
Snake,  but  I  don't  suppose  that  it  was  any  kind  of  snake.  The 
snake  was  their  totem,  and  they  would  naturally  call  their 
most  sacred  possession  after  it. 

"Now  I  will  tell  you  a  thing  that  few  know.  You  have 
heard  of  Chaka.  He  was  a  sort  of  black  Napoleon  early  in 
the  last  century,  and  he  made  the  Zulus  the  paramount  power 
in  South  Africa,  slaughtering  about  two  million  souls  to 
accomplish  it.  Well,  he  had  the  fetich,  whatever  it  was, 
and  it  was  believed  that  he  owed  his  conquests  to  it.  Mosi- 
likatse  tried  to  steal  it,  and  that  was  why  he  had  to  fly  to 
Matabeleland.     But  with  Chaka  it  disappeared.     Dingaan 


ARCOLL  TELLS  A  TALE  97 

did  not  have  it,  nor  Panda,  and  Cetewayo  never  got  it,  though 
he  searched  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  country  for  it. 
It  had  gone  out  of  existence,  and  w^ith  it  the  chance  of  a 
Kaffir  empire." 

Captain  Arcoll  got  up  to  light  his  pipe,  and  I  noticed 
that  his  face  was  grave.  He  was  not  telling  us  this  yarn 
for  our  amusement. 

"So  much  for  Prester  John  and  his  charm,"  he  said. 
"Now  I  have  to  take  up  the  history  at  a  different  point. 
In  spite  of  risings  here  and  there,  and  occasional  rows,  the 
Kaffirs  have  been  quiet  for  the  better  part  of  half  a  century. 
It  is  no  credit  to  us.  They  have  had  plenty  of  grievances, 
and  we  are  no  nearer  understanding  them  than  our  fathers 
were.  But  they  are  scattered  and  divided.  We  have  driven 
great  wedges  of  white  settlements  into  their  territory,  and 
we  have  taken  away  their  arms.  Still,  they  are  six  times  as 
many  as  we  are,  and  they  have  long  memories,  and  a  thought- 
ful man  may  wonder  how  long  the  peace  will  last.  I  have 
often  asked  myself  that  question,  and  till  lately  I  used  to 
reply,  ^For  ever,  because  they  cannot  find  a  leader  with  the 
proper  authority,  and  they  have  no  common  cause  to  fight 
for.'    But  a  year  or  two  ago  I  began  to  change  my  mind. 

"It  is  my  business  to  act  as  Chief  Intelligence  officer 
among  the  natives.  Well  one  day  I  came  on  the  tracks  of 
a  curious  person.  He  was  a  Christian  minister  called  Laputa, 
and  he  was  going  among  the  tribes  from  Durban  to  the 
Zambesi  as  a  roving  evangelist.  I  found  that  he  made  an 
enormous  impression,  and  yet  the  people  I  spoke  to  were 
chary  of  saying  much  about  him.  Presently  I  found  that 
he  preached  more  than  the  Gospel.     His  word  was  'Africa 


98  PRESTER  JOHN 

for  the  Africans,'  and  his  chief  point  was  that  the  natives 
had  had  a  great  empire  in  the  past,  and  might  have  a  great 
empire  again.  He  used  to  tell  the  story  of  Prester  John, 
with  all  kinds  of  embroidery  of  his  own.  You  see,  Prester 
John  was  a  good  argument  for  him,  for  he  had  been  a 
Christian  as  well  as  a  great  potentate. 

"For  years  there  has  been  plenty  of  this  talk  in  South 
Africa,  chiefly  among  Christian  Kaffirs.  It  is  what  they 
call  ^Ethiopianism,'  and  American  negroes  are  the  chief 
apostles.  For  myself,  I  always  thought  the  thing  perfectly 
harmless.  I  don't  care  a  fig  whether  the  native  missions 
break  away  from  the  parent  churches  in  England  and  call 
themselves  by  fancy  names.  The  more  freedom  they  have  in 
their  religious  life,  the  less  they  are  likely  to  think  about 
politics.  But  I  soon  found  out  that  Laputa  was  none  of  your 
flabby  educated  negroes  from  America,  and  I  began  to  watch 
him. 

"I  first  came  across  him  at  a  revival  meeting  in  London 
where  he  was  a  great  success.  He  came  and  spoke  to  me 
about  my  soul,  but  he  gave  up  when  I  dropped  into  Zulu. 
The  next  time  I  met  him  was  on  the  lower  Limpopo,  when 
I  had  the  honour  of  trying  to  shoot  him  from  a  boat." 

Captain  Arcoll  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  laughed 
at  the  recollection. 

"I  had  got  on  to  an  LD.B.  gang,  and  to  my  amazement 
found  the  evangelist  among  them.  But  the  Reverend  John 
was  too  much  for  me.  He  went  overboard  in  spite  of  the 
crocodiles,  and  managed  to  swim  below  water  to  the  reed 
bed  at  the  side.  However,  that  was  a  valuable  experience 
for  me,  for  it  gave  me  a  clue. 


ARCOLL  TELLS  A  TALE  99 

"I  next  saw  him  at  a  Missionary  Conference  in  Cape 
Town,  and  after  that  at  a  meeting  of  the  Geographical 
Society  in  London,  where  I  had  a  long  talk  with  him.  My 
reputation  does  not  follow  me  home,  and  he  thought  I  was 
an  English  publisher  with  an  interest  in  missions.  You  see 
I  had  no  evidence  to  connect  him  with  LD.B.,  and  besides 
I  fancied  that  his  real  game  was  something  bigger  than 
that  J  so  I  just  bided  my  time  and  watched. 

"I  did  my  best  to  get  on  to  his  dossier^  but  it  was  no  easy 
job.  However,  I  found  out  a  few  things.  He  had  been 
educated  in  the  States,  and  well  educated  too,  for  the  man 
is  a  good  scholar  and  a  great  reader,  besides  the  finest  natural 
orator  I  have  ever  heard.  There  was  no  doubt  that  he  was 
of  Zulu  blood,  but  I  could  get  no  traces  of  his  family.  He 
must  come  of  high  stock,  for  he  is  a  fine  figure  of  a  man. 

"Very  soon  I  found  it  was  no  good  following  him  in  his 
excursions  into  civilisation.  There  he  was  merely  the  edu- 
cated Kaffir  J  a  great  pet  of  missionary  societies  and  a  favour- 
ite speaker  at  Church  meetings.  You  will  find  evidence 
given  by  him  in  Blue  Books  on  native  affairs,  and  he  counted 
many  members  of  Parliament  at  home  among  his  corre- 
spondents. I  let  that  side  go,  and  resolved  to  dog  him  when 
on  his  evangelising  tours  in  the  back-veld. 

"For  six  months  I  stuck  to  him  like  a  leech.  I  am 
pretty  good  at  disguises,  and  he  never  knew  who  was  the 
broken-down  old  Kaffir  who  squatted  in  the  dirt  at  the  edge 
of  the  crowd  when  he  spoke,  or  the  half-caste  who  called 
him  ^Sir'  and  drove  his  Cape-cart.  I  had  some  queer  ad- 
ventures, but  these  can  wait.  The  gist  of  the  thing  is,  that 
after  six  months  which  turned  my  hair  grey  I  got  a  glim- 


100  PRESTER  JOHN 

mering  of  what  he  was  after.  He  talked  Christianity  to 
the  mobs  in  the  kraals,  but  to  the  indunas  *  he  told  a  dif- 
ferent story." 

Captain  Arcoll  helped  himself  to  a  drink.  "You  can 
guess  what  that  story  was,  Mr.  Crawfurd.  At  full  moon 
when  the  black  cock  was  blooded,  the  Reverend  John  forgot 
his  Christianity.  He  was  back  four  centuries  among  the 
Mazimba  sweeping  down  on  the  Zambesi.  He  told  them, 
and  they  believed  him,  that  he  was  the  Umkulunkulu,  the 
incarnated  spirit  of  Prester  John.  He  told  them  that  he 
was  there  to  lead  the  African  race  to  conquest  and  empire. 
Ay,  and  he  told  them  more:  for  he  has,  or  says  he  has,  the 
Great  Snake  itself,  the  necklet  of  Prester  John.'' 

Neither  of  us  spoke  j  we  were  too  occupied  with  fitting 
this  news  into  our  chain  of  knowledge. 

Captain  Arcoll  went  on.  "Now  that  I  knew  his  pur- 
pose, I  set  myself  to  find  out  his  preparations.  It  was  not 
long  before  I  found  a  mighty  organisation  at  work  from 
the  Zambesi  to  the  Cape.  The  great  tribes  were  up  to 
their  necks  in  the  conspiracy,  and  all  manner  of  little  sects 
had  been  taken  in.  I  have  sat  at  tribal  councils  and  been 
sworn  a  blood  brother,  and  I  have  used  the  secret  password 
to  get  knowledge  in  odd  places.  It  was  a  dangerous  game, 
and,  as  I  have  said,  I  had  my  adventures,  but  I  came  safe 
out  of  it — with  my  knowledge. 

"The  first  thing  I  found  out  was  that  there  was  a  great 
deal  of  wealth  somewhere  among  the  tribes.  Much  of  it 
was  in  diamonds,  which  the  labourers  stole  from  the  mines 
and  the  chiefs  impounded.     Nearly  every  tribe  had  its  secret 

•  Lesser  chiefs. 


ARCOLL  TELLS  A  TALE  101 

chest,  and  our  friend  Laputa  had  the  use  of  them  all.  Of 
course  the  difficulty  was  changing  the  diamonds  into  coin, 
and  he  had  to  start  LD.B.  on  a  big  scale.  Your  pal,  Hen- 
riques,  was  the  chief  agent  for  this,  but  he  had  others  at 
Mozambique  and  Johannesburg,  ay,  and  in  London,  whom 
I  have  on  my  list.  With  the  money  guns  and  ammunition 
were  bought,  and  it  seems  that  a  pretty  flourishing  trade 
has  been  going  on  for  some  time.  They  came  in  mostly  over- 
land through  Portuguese  territory,  though  there  have  been 
cases  of  consignments  to  Johannesburg  houses,  the  contents 
of  which  did  not  correspond  with  the  invoice.  You  ask 
what  the  Governments  were  doing  to  let  this  go  on.  Yes, 
and  you  may  well  ask.  They  were  all  asleep.  They  never 
dreamed  of  danger  from  the  natives,  and  in  any  case  it  was 
difficult  to  police  the  Portuguese  side.  Laputa  knew  our 
weakness,  and  he  staked  everything  on  it. 

"My  first  scheme  was  to  lay  Laputa  by  the  heels  j  but 
no  Government  would  act  on  my  information.  The  man 
was  strongly  buttressed  by  public  support  at  home,  and  South 
Africa  has  burned  her  fingers  before  this  with  arbitrary 
arrests.  Then  I  tried  to  fasten  LD.B.  on  him,  but  I  could 
not  get  my  proofs  till  too  late.  I  nearly  had  him  in  Durban, 
but  he  got  awayj  and  he  never  gave  me  a  second  chance. 
For  five  months  he  and  Henriques  have  been  lying  low,  be- 
cause their  scheme  was  getting  very  ripe.  I  have  been  fol- 
lowing them  through  Zululand  and  Gazaland,  and  I  have 
discovered  that  the  train  is  ready,  and  only  wants  the  match. 
For  a  month  I  have  never  been  more  than  five  hours  behind 
him  on  the  trail  j  and  if  he  has  laid  his  train,  I  have  laid 
mine  also." 


102  PRESTER  JOHN 

Arcoll's  whimsical,  humorous  face  had  hardened  into 
grimness,  and  in  his  clear  eyes  there  was  the  light  of  a 
fierce  purpose.  The  sight  of  him  comforted  me,  in  spite 
of  his  tale. 

"But  what  can  he  hope  to  do?"  I  asked.  "Though  he 
roused  every  Kaffir  in  South  Africa  he  would  be  beaten.  You 
say  he  is  an  educated  man.  He  must  know  he  has  no  chance 
in  the  long  run." 

"I  said  he  was  an  educated  man,  but  he  is  also  a  Kaffir. 
He  can  see  the  first  stage  of  a  thing,  and  maybe  the  second, 
but  no  more.  That  is  the  native  mind.  If  it  was  not  like 
that  our  chance  would  be  the  worse." 

"You  say  the  scheme  is  ripe,"  I  saidj  "how  ripe?" 

Arcoll  looked  at  the  clock.  "In  half  an  hour's  time 
Laputa  will  be  with  'Mpefu.  There  he  will  stay  the  night. 
Tomorrow  morning  he  goes  to  Umvelos'  to  meet  Henriques. 
Tomorrow  evening  the  gathering  begins." 

"One  question,"  I  said.    "How  big  a  man  is  Laputa?" 

"The  biggest  thing  the  Kaffirs  have  ever  produced.  I 
tell  you,  in  my  opinion  he  is  a  great  genius.  If  he  had  been 
white  he  might  have  been  a  second  Napoleon.  He  is  a  born 
leader  of  men,  and  as  brave  as  a  lion.  There  is  no  villainy 
he  would  not  do  if  necessary,  and  yet  I  should  hesitate  to 
call  him  a  blackguard.  Ay,  you  may  look  surprised  at  me, 
you  two  pragmatical  Scotsmen;  but  I  have,  so  to  speak,  lived 
with  the  man  for  months,  and  there's  fineness  and  nobility 
in  him.  He  would  be  a  terrible  enemy,  but  a  just  one.  He 
has  the  heart  of  a  poet  and  a  king,  and  it  is  God's  curse 
that  he  has  been  born  among  the  children  of  Ham.     I  hope 


ARCOLL  TELLS  A  TALE  103 

to  shoot  him  like  a  dog  in  a  day  or  two,  but  I  am  glad  to 
bear  testimony  to  his  greatness." 

"If  the  rising  starts  tomorrow,"  I  asked,  "have  you  any 
of  his  plans?" 

He  picked  up  a  map  from  the  table  and  opened  it.  "The 
first  rendezvous  is  somewhere  near  Sikitola's.  Then  they 
move  south,  picking  up  contingents  j  and  the  final  concen- 
tration is  to  be  on  the  high  veld  near  Amsterdam,  which  is 
convenient  for  the  Swazis  and  the  Zulus.  After  that  I 
know  nothing,  but  of  course  there  are  local  concentrations 
along  the  whole  line  of  the  Berg  from  Mashonaland  to 
Basutoland.  Now,  look  here.  To  get  to  Amsterdam  they 
must  cross  the  Delagoa  Bay  Railway.  Well,  they  won't  be 
allowed  to.  If  they  get  as  far,  they  will  be  scattered  there. 
As  I  told  you,  I  too  have  laid  my  train.  We  have  the  police 
ready  all  along  the  scarp  of  the  Berg.  Every  exit  from 
native  territory  is  watched,  and  the  frontier  farmers  are  out 
on  commando.  We  have  regulars  on  the  Delagoa  Bay  and 
Natal  lines,  and  a  system  of  field  telegraphs  laid  which  can 
summon  further  troops  to  any  point.  It  has  all  been  kept 
secret,  because  we  are  still  in  the  dark  ourselves.  The  news- 
paper public  knows  nothing  about  any  rising,  but  in  two 
days  every  white  household  in  South  Africa  will  be  in  a 
panic.  Make  no  mistake,  Mr.  Crawfurdj  this  is  a  grim 
business.  We  shall  smash  Laputa  and  his  men,  but  it  will 
be  a  fierce  fight,  and  there  will  be  much  good  blood  shed. 
Besides,  it  will  throw  the  country  back  another  half-century. 
Would  to  God  I  had  been  man  enough  to  put  a  bullet  through 
his  head  in  cold  blood.  But  I  could  not  do  it — it  was  too 
like  murder;  and  maybe  I  shall  never  have  the  chance  now." 


104  PRESTER  JOHN 

"There's  one  thing  puzzles  me,"  I  said.  "What  makes 
Laputa  come  up  here  to  start  with?  Why  didn't  he  begin 
with  Zululandr" 

"God  knows!  There's  sure  to  be  sense  in  it,  for  he  does 
nothing  without  reason.     We  may  know  tomorrow." 

But  as  Captain  Arcoll  spoke,  the  real  reason  suddenly 
flashed  into  my  mind:  Laputa  had  to  get  the  Great  Snake, 
the  necklet  of  Prester  John,  to  give  his  leadership  prestige. 
Apparently  he  had  not  yet  got  it,  or  Arcoll  would  have 
known.  He  started  from  this  neighbourhood  because  the 
fetich  was  somewhere  hereabouts.  I  was  convinced  that  my 
guess  was  right,  but  I  kept  my  own  counsel. 

"Tomorrow  Laputa  and  Henriques  meet  at  Umvelos', 
probably  at  your  new  store,  Mr.  Crawfurd.  And  so  the  ball 
commences." 

My  resolution  was  suddenly  taken. 

"I  think,"  I  said,  "I  had  better  be  present  at  the  meeting, 
as  representing  the  firm." 

Captain  Arcoll  stared  at  me  and  laughed.  "I  had 
thought  of  going  myself,"  he  said. 

"Then  you  go  to  certain  death,  disguise  yourself  as  you 
please.  You  cannot  meet  them  in  the  store  as  I  can.  I'm 
there  on  my  ordinary  business,  and  they  will  never  suspect. 
If  you're  to  get  any  news,  I'm  the  man  to  go." 

He  looked  at  me  steadily  for  a  minute  or  so.  "I'm  not 
sure  that's  such  a  bad  idea  of  yours.  I  would  be  better  em- 
ployed myself  on  the  Berg,  and,  as  you  say,  I  would  have 
little  chance  of  hearing  anything.  You're  a  plucky  fellow, 
Mr.  Crawfurd.  I  suppose  you  understand  that  the  risk 
is  pretty  considerable." 


ARCOLL  TELLS  A  TALE  105 

"I  suppose  I  do;  but  since  Pm  in  this  thing,  I  may  as 
well  see  it  out.  Besides,  IVe  an  old  quarrel  with  our  friend 
Laputa." 

"Good  and  well,"  said  Captain  Arcoll.  "Draw  in  your 
chair  to  the  table,  then,  and  I'll  explain  to  you  the  disposi- 
tion of  my  men.  I  should  tell  you  that  I  have  loyal  natives 
in  my  pay  in  most  tribes,  and  can  count  on  early  intelligence. 
We  can't  match  their  telepathy;  but  the  new  type  of  field 
telegraph  is  not  so  bad,  and  may  be  a  trifle  more  reliable." 

Till  midnight  we  pored  over  maps,  and  certain  details 
were  burned  on  my  memory.  Then  we  went  to  bed  and 
slept  soundly,  even  Mr.  Wardlaw.  It  was  strange  how  fear 
had  gone  from  the  establishment,  now  that  we  knew  the 
worst  and  had  a  fighting  man  by  our  side. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

I  FALL  IN  AGAIN  WITH  THE  REVEREND  JOHN   LAPUTA 

Once  as  a  boy  I  had  earnestly  desired  to  go  into  the  army, 
and  had  hopes  of  rising  to  be  a  great  general.  Now  that 
I  know  myself  better  I  do  not  think  I  would  have  been  much 
good  at  a  general's  work.  I  would  have  shirked  the  lone- 
liness of  it,  the  isolation  of  responsibility.  But  I  think  I 
would  have  done  well  in  a  subaltern  command,  for  I  had 
a  great  notion  of  carrying  out  orders  and  a  certain  zest  in 
the  mere  act  of  obedience.  Three  days  before  I  had  been 
as  nervous  as  a  kitten  because  I  was  alone  and  it  was  "up  to 
me,"  as  Americans  say,  to  decide  on  the  next  step.  But 
now  that  I  was  only  one  wheel  in  a  great  machine  of  defence 
my  nervousness  seemed  to  have  fled.  I  was  well  aware  that 
the  mission  I  was  bound  on  was  full  of  risk;  but  to  my  sur- 
prise I  felt  no  fear.  Indeed,  I  had  much  the  same  feeling  as 
a  boy  on  a  Saturday's  holiday  who  has  planned  a  great  expe- 
dition. One  thing  only  I  regretted — that  Tam  Dyke  was 
not  with  me  to  see  the  fun.  The  thought  of  that  faithful 
soul,  now  beating  somewhere  on  the  seas,  made  me  long  for 
his  comradeship.  As  I  shaved,  I  remember  wondering  if  I 
would  ever  shave  again  and  the  thought  gave  me  no  tremors. 
For  once  in  my  sober  life  I  was  strung  up  to  the  gambler's 
pitch  of  adventure. 

My  job  was  to  go  to  Umvelos,  as  if  on  my  ordinary  busi- 

io6 


THE  REV.  JOHN  LAPUTA  107 

ness,  and  if  possible  find  out  something  of  the  evening^s 
plan  of  march.  The  question  was  how  to  send  back  a 
message  to  Arcoll,  assuming  I  had  any  difficulty  in  getting 
away.  At  first  this  puzzled  us  both,  and  then  I  thought  of 
Colin.  I  had  trained  the  dog  to  go  home  at  my  bidding, 
for  often  when  I  used  to  go  hunting  I  would  have  occasion 
to  visit  a  kraal  where  he  would  have  been  a  nuisance.  Ac- 
cordingly, I  resolved  to  take  Colin  with  me  and,  if  I  got  into 
trouble,  to  send  word  by  him. 

I  asked  about  Laputa's  knowledge  of  our  preparations. 
Arcoll  was  inclined  to  think  that  he  suspected  little.  The 
police  and  the  commandos  had  been  kept  very  secret  and, 
besides,  they  were  moving  on  the  high-veld  and  out  of  the 
ken  of  the  tribes.  Natives,  he  told  me,  were  not  good  scouts 
so  far  as  white  man's  work  was  concerned,  for  they  did  not 
understand  the  meaning  of  what  we  did.  On  the  other 
hand,  his  native  scouts  brought  him  pretty  accurate  tidings 
of  any  Kaffir  movements.  He  thought  that  all  the  bush 
country  of  the  plain  would  be  closely  watched,  and  that  no 
one  would  get  through  without  some  kind  of  pass.  But  he 
thought  also  that  the  storekeeper  might  be  an  exception,  for 
his  presence  would  give  rise  to  no  suspicions.  Almost  his 
last  words  to  me  were  to  come  back  hell-for-leather  if  I  saw 
the  game  was  hopeless,  and  in  any  case  to  leave  as  soon  as 
I  got  any  news.  "If  you're  there  when  the  march  begins," 
he  said,  "they'll  cut  your  throat  for  a  certainty."  I  had  all 
the  various  police  posts  on  the  Berg  clear  in  my  mind,  so 
that  I  would  know  where  to  make  for  if  the  road  to  Blaau- 
wildebeestefontein  should  be  closed. 

I  said  good-bye  to  Arcoll  and  Wardlaw  with  a  light 


108  PRESTER  JOHN 

heart,  though  the  schoolmaster  broke  down  and  implored 
me  to  think  better  of  it.  As  I  turned  down  into  the  gorge 
I  heard  the  sound  of  horses'  feet  far  behind  and,  turning 
back,  saw  white  riders  dismounting  at  the  dorp.  At  any 
rate  I  was  leaving  the  country  well  guarded  in  my  rear. 

It  was  a  fine  morning  in  midwinter,  and  I  was  in  very 
good  spirits  as  I  jogged  on  my  pony  down  the  steep  hill- 
road  with  Colin  running  beside  me.  A  month  before  I 
had  taken  the  same  journey,  with  no  suspicion  in  my  head 
of  what  the  future  was  to  bring.  I  thought  about  my 
Dutch  companions,  now  with  their  cattle  far  out  on  the 
plains.  Did  they  know  of  the  great  danger,  I  wondered. 
All  the  way  down  the  glen  I  saw  no  sign  of  human  presence. 
The  game-birds  mocked  me  from  the  thicket;  a  brace  of 
white  berghaan  circled  far  up  in  the  bluej  and  I  had  for 
pleasant  comrade  the  brawling  river.  I  dismounted  once 
to  drink,  and  in  that  green  haven  of  flowers  and  ferns 
I  was  struck  sharply  with  a  sense  of  folly.  Here  were  we 
wretched  creatures  of  men  making  for  each  other's  throats, 
and  outraging  the  good  earth  which  God  had  made  so  fair 
a  habitation. 

I  had  resolved  on  a  short  cut  to  Umvelos',  avoiding  the 
neighbourhood  of  Sikitola's  kraal,  so  when  the  river 
emerged  from  the  glen  I  crossed  it  and  struck  into  the  bush. 
I  had  not  gone  far  before  I  realised  that  something  strange 
was  going  on.  It  was  like  the  woods  on  the  Berg  a  week 
before.  I  had  the  impression  of  many  people  moving  in  the 
bush,  and  now  and  then  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  them.  My 
first  thought  was  that  I  should  be  stopped,  but  soon  it  ap- 
peared that  these  folk  had  business  of  their  own  which  did 


THE  REV.  JOHN  LAPUTA  109 

not  concern  me.  I  was  conscious  of  being  watched,  yet  it 
was  clear  that  the  bush  folk  were  not  there  for  the  purpose  of 
watching  me. 

For  a  little  I  kept  my  spirits,  but  as  the  hours  passed  with 
the  same  uncanny  hurrying  to  and  fro  all  about  me  my 
nerves  began  to  suffer.  Weeks  of  espionage  at  Blaauwilde- 
beestefontein  had  made  me  jumpy.  These  people  appar- 
ently meant  me  no  ill  and  had  no  time  to  spare  on  me.  But 
the  sensation  of  moving  through  them  was  like  walking 
on  a  black-dark  night  with  precipices  all  around.  I  felt 
odd  quiverings  between  my  shoulder  blades  where  a  spear 
might  be  expected  to  lodge.  Overhead  was  a  great  blue  sky 
and  a  blazing  sun,  and  I  could  see  the  path  running  clear 
before  me  between  the  walls  of  scrub.  But  it  was  like  mid- 
night to  me,  a  midnight  of  suspicion  and  unknown  perils.  I 
began  to  wish  heartily  I  had  never  come. 

I  stopped  for  my  midday  meal  at  a  place  called  Taqui, 
a  grassy  glade  in  the  bush  where  a  tiny  spring  of  water  crept 
out  from  below  a  big  stone,  only  to  disappear  in  the  sand. 
Here  I  sat  and  smoked  for  half  an  hour,  wondering  what 
was  going  to  become  of  me.  The  air  was  very  still,  but  I 
could  hear  the  rustle  of  movement  somewhere  within  a 
hundred  yards.  The  hidden  folk  were  busy  about  their  own 
ends,  and  I  regretted  that  I  had  not  taken  the  road  by 
Sikitola's  and  seen  how  the  kraals  looked.  They  must  be 
empty  now  for  the  young  men  were  already  out  on  some 
mission.  So  nervous  I  got  that  I  took  my  pocketbook  and 
wrote  down  certain  messages  to  my  mother,  which  I  im- 
plored v/hoever  should  find  my  body  to  transmit.     Then,  a 


110  PRESTER  JOHN 

little  ashamed  of  my  childishness,  I  pulled  myself  together 
and  remounted. 

About  three  in  the  afternoon  I  came  over  a  low  ridge  of 
bush  and  saw  the  corrugated  iron  roof  of  the  store  and  the 
gleam  of  water  from  the  Labongo.  The  sight  encouraged 
me,  for  at  my  rate  it  meant  the  end  of  this  disquieting  ride. 
Here  the  bush  changed  to  trees  of  some  size,  and  after  leav- 
ing the  ridge  the  road  plunged  for  a  little  into  a  thick  shade. 
I  had  forgotten  for  a  moment  the  folk  in  the  bush,  and  when 
a  man  stepped  out  of  the  thicket  I  pulled  up  my  horse  with 
a  start. 

It  was  a  tall  native  who  carried  himself  proudly,  and 
after  a  glance  at  me,  stalked  along  at  my  side.  He  wore 
curious  clothes,  for  he  had  a  kind  of  linen  tunic,  and  around 
his  waist  hung  a  kilt  of  leopard-skin.  In  such  a  man  one 
would  have  looked  for  a  ring-kop^  but  instead  he  had  a 
mass  of  hair,  not  like  a  Kaffir's  wool,  but  long  and  curled  like 
some  popular  musician's.  I  should  have  been  prepared  for 
the  face,  but  the  sight  of  it  sent  a  sudden  chill  of  fright 
through  my  veins.  For  there  were  the  curved  nose,  the 
deep  flashing  eyes  and  the  cruel  lips  of  my  enemy  of  the 
Kirkcaple  shore. 

Colin  was  deeply  suspicious  and  followed  his  heels  growl- 
ing, but  he  never  turned  his  head. 

"The  day  is  warm,  father,"  I  said  in  Kaffir.  "Do  you 
go  far?" 

He  slackened  pace  till  he  was  at  my  elbow.  "But  a  short 
way.  Baas,"  he  replied  in  English;  "I  go  to  the  store  yonder." 

"Well  met,  then,"  said  I,  "for  I  am  the  storekeeper.     You 

•The  circlet  into  which,  with  the  aid  of  gum,  Zulu  warriors  weave  their  hair. 


THE  REV.  JOHN  LAPUTA  111 

will  find  little  in  it,  for  it  is  newly  built  and  not  yet  stocked. 
I  have  ridden  over  to  see  to  it." 

He  turned  his  face  to  me.  "That  is  bad  news.  I  had 
hoped  for  food  and  drink  yonder.  I  have  travelled  far  and 
in  the  chill  nights  I  desire  a  cover  for  my  head.  Will  the 
Baas  allow  me  to  sleep  the  night  in  an  outhouse?" 

By  this  time  I  had  recovered  my  nerve  and  was  ready 
to  play  the  part  I  had  determined  on.  "Willingly,"  I  said. 
"You  may  sleep  in  the  storeroom  if  you  care.  You  will  find 
sacks  for  bedding  and  the  place  is  snug  enough  on  a  cold 
night." 

He  thanked  me  with  a  grave  dignity  which  I  had  never 
seen  in  any  Kaffir.  As  my  eye  fell  on  his  splendid  propor- 
tions I  forgot  all  else  in  my  admiration  of  the  man.  In  his 
minister's  clothes  he  had  looked  only  a  heavily  built  native 
but  now  in  his  savage  dress  I  saw  how  noble  a  figure  he 
made.  He  must  have  been  at  least  six  feet  and  a  half,  but 
his  chest  was  so  deep  and  his  shoulders  so  massive  that  one 
did  not  remark  his  height.  He  put  a  hand  on  my  saddle, 
and  I  remember  noting  how  slim  and  fine  it  was,  more  like 
a  high-bred  woman's  than  a  man's.  Curiously  enough  he 
filled  me  with  a  certain  confidence.  "I  do  not  think  you 
will  cut  my  throat,"  I  said  to  myself.  "Your  game  is  too 
big  for  common  murder." 

The  store  at  Umvelos'  stood  as  I  had  left  it.  There  was 
the  sjambok  I  had  forgotten  still  lying  on  the  window  sill. 
I  unlocked  the  door  and  a  stifling  smell  of  new  paint  came 
out  to  meet  me.  Inside  there  was  nothing  but  the  chairs 
and  benches,  and  in  a  corner  the  pots  and  pans  I  had  left 
against  my  next  visit.     I  unlocked  the  cupboard  and  got 


112  PRESTER  JOHN 

out  a  few  stores,  opened  the  windows  of  the  bedroom  next 
door,  and  flung  my  kaross  on  the  cartel  which  did  duty  as 
bed.  Then  I  went  out  to  find  Laputa  standing  patiently 
in  the  sunshine. 

I  showed  him  the  outhouse  where  I  had  said  he  might 
sleep.  It  was  the  largest  room  in  the  store  but  wholly  un- 
furnished. A  pile  of  barrels  and  packing-cases  stood  in  the 
corner,  and  there  was  enough  sacking  to  make  a  sort  of  bed. 

"I  am  going  to  make  tea,"  I  said.  "If  you  have  come 
far  you  would  maybe  like  a  cup?" 

He  thanked  me  and  I  made  a  fire  in  the  grate  and  put 
on  the  kettle  to  boil.  Then  I  set  on  the  table  biscuits,  and 
sardines,  and  a  pot  of  jam.  It  was  my  business  now  to 
play  the  fool,  and  I  believe  I  succeeded  to  admiration  in  the 
part.  I  blush  today  to  think  of  the  stuff  I  talked.  First 
I  made  him  sit  on  a  chair  opposite  me,  a  thing  no  white  man 
in  the  country  would  have  done.  Then  I  told  him  affec- 
tionately that  I  liked  natives,  that  they  were  fine  fellows 
and  better  men  than  the  dirty  whites  round  about.  I  ex- 
plained that  I  was  fresh  from  England,  and  believed  in  equal 
rights  for  all  men,  white  or  coloured.  I  think  I  said  I  hoped 
to  see  the  day  when  Africa  would  belong  once  more  to  its 
rightful  masters. 

He  heard  me  with  an  impassive  face,  his  grave  eyes  study- 
ing every  line  of  me.  I  am  bound  to  add  that  he  made 
a  hearty  meal,  and  drank  three  cups  of  strong  tea  of  my 
brewing.  I  gave  him  a  cigar,  one  of  a  lot  I  had  got  from 
a  Dutch  farmer  who  was  experimenting  with  their  manu- 
facture— and  all  the  while  I  babbled  of  myself  and  my 


THE  REV.  JOHN  LAPUTA  113 

opinions.  He  must  have  thought  me  half-witted,  and  in- 
deed before  long  I  began  to  be  of  the  same  opinion  myself. 
I  told  him  that  I  meant  to  sleep  the  night  here,  and  go  back 
in  the  morning  to  Blaauwildebeestefontein,  and  then  to 
Pietersdorp  for  stores.  By  and  by  I  could  see  that  he  had 
ceased  to  pay  any  attention  to  what  I  said.  I  was  clearly 
set  down  in  his  mind  as  a  fool.  Instead  he  kept  looking  at 
Colin,  who  was  lying  blinking  in  the  doorway,  one  wary  eye 
cocked  on  the  stranger. 

"You  have  a  fine  dog,"  he  observed. 

"Yes,"  I  agreed,  with  one  final  effort  of  mendacity,  "he's 
fine  to  look  at,  but  he  has  no  grit  in  him.  Any  mongrel 
from  a  kraal  can  make  him  turn  tail.  Besides  he  is  a  born 
fool  and  can't  find  his  way  home.  I'm  thinking  of  getting 
rid  of  him." 

Laputa  rose  and  his  eye  fell  on  the  dog's  back.  I  could 
see  that  he  saw  the  lie  of  the  coat,  and  that  he  did  not  agree 
with  me. 

"The  food  was  welcome,  Baas,"  he  said.  "If  you  will 
listen  to  me  I  can  repay  hospitality  with  advice.  You  are 
a  stranger  here.  Trouble  comes  and  if  you  are  wise  you 
will  go  back  to  the  Berg." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  I  said,  with  an  air  of 
cheerful  idiocy.  "But  back  to  the  Berg  I  go  the  first  thing 
in  the  morning.      I  hate  these  stinking  plains." 

"It  were  wise  to  go  tonight,"  he  said,  with  a  touch  of 
menace  in  his  tone. 

"I  can't,"  I  said,  and  began  to  sing  the  chorus  of  a  ridic- 
ulous music-hall  song. 


114  PRESTER  JOHN 

"There's  no  place  like  home — but 
I'm  afraid  to  go  home  in  the  dark." 

Laputa  shrugged  his  shoulders,  stepped  over  the  bristling 
Colin,  and  went  out.  When  I  looked  after  him  two  min- 
utes later  he  had  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  IX 


I  SAT  down  on  a  chair  and  laboured  to  collect  my  thoughts. 
Laputa  had  gone,  and  would  return  sooner  or  later  with  Hen- 
riques.  If  I  was  to  remain  alive  till  morning,  both  of  them 
must  be  convinced  that  I  was  harmless.  Laputa  was  prob- 
ably of  this  opinion,  but  Henriques  would  recognise  me, 
and  I  had  no  wish  to  have  that  yellow  miscreant  investigat- 
ing my  character.  There  was  only  one  way  out  of  it — I 
must  be  incapably  drunk.  There  was  not  a  drop  of  liquor 
in  the  store,  but  I  found  an  old  whisky  bottle  half  full  of 
methylated  spirits.  With  this  I  thought  I  might  raise  an 
atmosphere  of  bad  whisky,  and  for  the  rest  I  must  trust 
to  my  meagre  gifts  as  an  actor. 

Supposing  I  escaped  suspicion,  Laputa  and  Henriques 
would  meet  in  the  outhouse  and  I  must  find  some  means  of 
overhearing  them.  Here  I  was  fairly  baffled.  There  was 
no  window  in  the  outhouse  save  in  the  roof,  and  they  were 
sure  to  shut  and  bolt  the  door.  I  might  conceal  myself 
among  the  barrels  inside  5  but  apart  from  the  fact  that  they 
were  likely  to  search  them  before  beginning  their  confer- 
ence, it  was  quite  certain  that  they  would  satisfy  themselves 
that  I  was  safe  in  the  other  end  of  the  building  before  going 
to  the  outhouse. 

Suddenly  I  thought  of  the  cellar  which  we  had  built  be- 

115 


116  PRESTER  JOHN 

low  the  store.  There  was  an  entrance  by  a  trapdoor  behind 
the  counter,  and  another  in  the  outhouse.  I  had  forgotten 
the  details,  but  my  hope  was  that  the  second  was  among  the 
barrels.  I  shut  the  outer  door,  prised  up  the  trap,  and 
dropped  into  the  vault,  which  had  been  floored  roughly 
with  green  bricks.  Lighting  match  after  match,  I  crawled 
to  the  other  end  and  tried  to  lift  the  door.  It  would  not 
stir,  so  I  guessed  that  the  barrels  were  on  top  of  it.  Back 
to  the  outhouse  I  went,  and  found  that  sure  enough  a  heavy 
packing  case  was  standing  on  a  corner.  I  fixed  it  slightly 
open,  so  as  to  let  me  hear,  and  so  arranged  the  odds  and 
ends  round  about  it  that  no  one  looking  from  the  floor  of 
the  outhouse  would  guess  at  its  existence.  It  occurred  to 
me  that  the  conspirators  would  want  seats,  so  I  placed  two 
cases  at  the  edge  of  the  heap,  that  they  might  not  be  tempted 
to  forage  in  the  interior. 

This  done,  I  went  back  to  the  store  and  proceeded  to  rig 
myself  out  for  my  part.  The  cellar  had  made  me  pretty 
dirty,  and  I  added  some  new  daubs  to  my  face.  My  hair 
had  grown  longish,  and  I  ran  my  hands  through  it  till  it  stood 
up  like  a  cockatoo's  crest.  Then  I  cunningly  disposed  the 
methylated  spirits  in  the  places  most  likely  to  smell.  I 
burned  a  little  on  the  floor,  I  spilt  some  on  the  counter  and 
on  my  hands,  and  I  let  it  dribble  over  my  coat.  In  five 
minutes  I  had  made  the  room  stink  like  a  shebeen.  I 
loosened  the  collar  of  my  shirt,  and  when  I  looked  at  my- 
self in  the  cover  of  my  watch  I  saw  a  specimen  of  debauch- 
ery which  would  have  done  credit  to  a  Saturday  night's  po- 
lice cell. 

By  this  time  the  sun  had  gone  down,  but  I  thought  it  better 


THE  STORE  AT  UMVELOS'  117 

to  kindle  no  light.  It  was  the  night  of  the  full  moon — 
for  which  reason,  I  supposed,  Laputa  had  selected  it — and  in 
an  hour  or  two  the  world  would  be  lit  with  that  ghostly 
radiance.  I  sat  on  the  counter  while  the  minutes  passed, 
and  I  confess  I  found  the  time  of  waiting  very  trying  for 
my  courage.  I  had  got  over  my  worst  nervousness  by  hav- 
ing something  to  do  but  whenever  I  was  idle  my  fears  re- 
turned. Laputa  had  a  big  night's  work  before  him  and 
must  begin  soon.  My  vigil,  I  told  myself,  could  not  be 
long. 

My  pony  was  stalled  in  a  rough  shed  we  had  built  op- 
posite the  store.  I  could  hear  him  shaking  his  head  and 
stamping  the  ground  above  the  croaking  of  the  frogs  by 
the  Labongo.  Presently  it  seemed  to  me  that  another  sound 
came  from  behind  the  store — the  sound  of  horses'  feet  and 
the  rattle  of  bridles.  It  was  hushed  for  a  moment  and  then 
I  heard  human  voices.  The  riders  had  tied  up  their  horses 
to  a  tree  and  were  coming  nearer. 

I  sprawled  gracefully  on  the  counter,  the  empty  bottle 
in  my  hand  and  my  eyes  fixed  anxiously  on  the  square  of  the 
door,  which  was  filled  with  the  blue  glimmer  of  the  late 
twilight.  The  square  darkened  and  two  men  peered  in. 
Colin  growled  from  below  the  counter  but  with  one  hand  I 
held  the  scruff  of  his  neck. 

"Hullo,"  I  said,  "ish  that  my  black  friend?  Awfly 
shorry,  old  man,  but  Pve  Pnish'd  th'  whisky.  The 
bo-o-ottle  shempty,"  and  I  waved  it  upside  down  with  an 
imbecile  giggle. 

Laputa  said  something  which  I  did  not  catch.  Henriques 
laughed  an  ugly  laugh. 


118  PRESTER  JOHN 

"We  had  better  make  certain  of  him,"  he  said. 

The  two  argued  for  a  minute,  and  then  Laputa  seemed 
to  prevail.  The  door  was  shut  and  the  key,  which  I  had 
left  in  the  lock,  turned  on  me. 

I  gave  them  five  minutes  to  get  to  the  outhouse  and  settle 
to  business.  Then  I  opened  the  trap,  got  into  the  cellar, 
and  crawled  to  the  other  end.  A  ray  of  light  was  coming 
through  the  partially  raised  door.  By  a  blessed  chance  some 
old  bricks  had  been  left  behind,  and  of  these  I  made  a  foot- 
stool, which  enabled  me  to  get  my  back  level  with  the  door 
and  look  out.  My  laager  of  barrels  was  intact,  but  through 
a  gap  I  had  left  I  could  see  the  two  men  sitting  on  the  two 
cases  I  had  provided  for  them.  A  lantern  was  set  between 
them  and  Henriques  was  drinking  out  of  a  metal  flask. 

He  took  something — I  could  not  see  what — out  of  his 
pocket  and  held  it  before  his  companion. 

"Spoils  of  war,"  he  said.  "I  let  Sikitola's  men  draw  first 
blood.  They  needed  it  to  screw  up  their  courage.  Now 
they  are  as  wild  as  Umbooni's." 

Laputa  asked  a  question. 

"It  was  the  Dutchmen,  who  were  out  on  the  Koodoo 
Flats  with  their  cattle.  Man,  it's  no  good  being  squeamish. 
Do  you  think  you  can  talk  over  these  surly  back-veld  fools? 
If  we  had  not  done  it,  the  best  of  their  horses  would  now  be 
over  the  Berg  to  give  warning.  Besides,  I  tell  you,  Sikitola's 
men  wanted  blooding.  I  did  for  the  old  swine,  Coetzee, 
with  my  own  hands.  Once  he  set  his  dogs  at  me  and  I  don't 
forget  an  injury." 

Laputa  must  have  disapproved,  for  Henriques'  voice  grew 
high. 


THE  STORE  AT  UMVELOS'  119 

"Run  the  show  the  way  you  please,"  he  cried  j  "but  don't 
blame  me  if  you  make  a  hash  of  it.  God,  man,  do  you 
think  you  are  going  to  work  a  revolution  on  skim  milk?  If 
I  had  my  will  I  would  go  in  and  stick  a  knife  in  the  drunken 
hog  next  door." 

"He  is  safe  enough,"  Laputa  replied.  "I  gave  him  the 
chance  of  life,  and  he  laughed  at  me.  He  won't  get  far  on 
his  road  home." 

This  was  pleasant  hearing  for  me  but  I  scarcely  thought  of 
myself.  I  was  consumed  with  a  passion  of  fury  against  that 
murdering  yellow  devil.  With  Laputa  I  was  not  angry;  he 
was  an  open  enemy,  playing  a  fair  game.  But  my  fingers 
itched  to  get  at  the  Portugoose — that  double-dyed  traitor  to 
his  race.  As  I  thought  of  my  kindly  old  friends,  lying 
butchered  with  their  kinsfolk  out  in  the  bush,  hot  tears  of 
rage  came  to  my  eyes.  Perfect  love  casteth  out  fear,  the 
Bible  says;  but,  to  speak  it  reverently,  so  does  perfect  hate. 
Not  for  safety  and  a  king's  ransom  would  I  have  drawn 
back  from  the  game.  I  prayed  for  one  thing  only,  that 
God  in  His  mercy  would  give  me  the  chance  of  settling  with 
Henriques. 

I  fancy  I  missed  some  of  the  conversation,  being  occupied 
with  my  own  passion.  At  any  rate,  when  I  next  listened  the 
two  were  deep  in  plans.  Maps  were  spread  beside  them, 
and  Laputa's  delicate  forefinger  was  tracing  a  route.  I 
strained  my  ears  but  could  catch  only  a  few  names.  Appar- 
ently they  were  to  keep  in  the  plains  till  they  had  crossed 
the  Klein  Labongo  and  the  Letaba.  I  thought  I  caught 
the  name  of  the  ford  of  the  latter;  it  sounded  like  Dupree's 
Drift.     After  that  the  talk  became  plainer,  for  Laputa  was 


120  PRESTER  JOHN 

explaining  in  his  clear  voice.  The  force  would  leave  the 
bush,  ascend  the  Berg  by  the  glen  of  the  Groot  Letaba,  and 
the  first  halt  would  be  called  at  a  place  called  Inanda's  Kraal, 
where  a  promontory  of  the  high-veld  juts  out  behind  the 
peaks  called  the  Wolkberg  or  Cloud  Mountains.  All  this 
was  very  much  to  the  point,  and  the  names  sunk  into  my 
memory  like  a  die  into  wax. 

"Meanwhile,"  said  Laputa,  "there  is  the  gathering  at 
Ntabakaikonjwa.*  It  will  take  us  three  hours'  hard  riding 
to  get  there." 

Where  on  earth  was  Ntabakaikonjwa?  It  must  be  the 
native  name  for  the  Rooirand,  for  after  all  Laputa  was  not 
likely  to  use  the  Dutch  word  for  his  own  sacred  place. 

"Nothing  has  been  forgotten.  The  men  are  massed 
below  the  cliffs  and  the  chiefs  and  the  great  indunas  will 
enter  the  Place  of  the  Snake.  The  door  will  be  guarded 
and  only  the  password  will  get  a  man  through.  That  word 
is  Emmanuel,'  which  means  ^God  with  us.' 

"Well,  when  we  get  there,  what  happens?"  Henriques 
asked  with  a  laugh.  "What  kind  of  magic  will  you  spring 
on  us?" 

There  was  a  strong  contrast  between  the  flippant  tone 
of  the  Portugoose  and  the  grave  voice  which  answered  him. 

"The  Keeper  of  the  Snake  will  open  the  holy  place,  and 
bring  forth  the  Isetembiso  sami.f  As  the  leader  of  my 
people,  I  will  assume  the  collar  of  Umkulunkulu  in  the  name 
of  our  God  and  the  spirits  of  the  great  dead." 

"But  you  don't  propose  to  lead  the  march  in  a  necklace 

•Literally,  "The  Hill  which  is  not  to  be  pointed  at." 
t  Literally,  "Very  sacred  thing." 


THE  STORE  AT  UMVELOS^  121 

of  rubies,"  said  Henriques,  with  a  sudden  eagerness  in  his 
voice. 

Again  Laputa  spoke  gravely  and,  as  it  were,  abstractedly. 
I  heard  the  voice  of  one  whose  mind  was  fixed  on  a  far 
horizon. 

"When  I  am  acclaimed  king,  I  restore  the  Snake  to  its 
Keeper  and  swear  never  to  clasp  it  on  my  neck  till  I  have  led 
my  people  to  victory." 

"I  see,"  said  Henriques.  "What  about  the  purification 
you  mentioned?" 

I  had  missed  this  before  and  listened  earnestly. 

"The  vows  we  take  in  the  holy  place  bind  us  till  we  are 
purged  of  them  at  Inanda's  Kraal.  Till  then  no  blood  must 
be  shed  and  no  flesh  eaten.  It  was  the  fashion  of  our 
forefathers." 

"Well,  I  think  you've  taken  on  a  pretty  risky  job,"  Hen- 
riques said.  "You  propose  to  travel  a  hundred  miles,  bind- 
ing yourself  not  to  strike  a  blow.  It  is  simply  putting  your- 
self at  the  mercy  of  any  police  patrol." 

"There  will  be  no  patrol,"  Laputa  replied.  "Our  march 
will  be  as  secret  and  as  swift  as  death.  I  have  made  my 
preparations." 

"But  suppose  you  met  with  opposition,"  the  Portugoose 
persisted,  "would  the  rule  hold? " 

"If  any  try  to  stop  us,  we  shall  tie  them  hand  and  foot 
and  carry  them  with  us.  Their  fate  will  be  worse  than  if 
they  had  been  slain  in  battle." 

"I  see,"  said  Henriques,  whistling  through  his  teeth. 
"Well,  before  we  start  this  vow  business,  I  think  Pll  go 
back  and  settle  that  storekeeper." 


122  PRESTER  JOHN 

Laputa  shook  his  head.  "Will  you  be  serious  and  hear 
me?  We  have  no  time  to  knife  harmless  fools.  Before 
we  start  for  Ntabakaikonjwa  I  must  have  from  you  the  fig- 
ures of  the  arming  in  the  south.  That  is  the  one  thing 
which  remains  to  be  settled." 

I  am  certain  these  figures  would  have  been  most  inter- 
esting, but  I  never  heard  them.  My  feet  were  getting 
cramped  with  standing  on  the  bricks,  and  I  inadvertently 
moved  them.  The  bricks  came  down  with  a  rattle,  and 
unfortunately  in  slipping  I  clutched  at  the  trap.  This  was 
too  much  for  my  frail  prop  and  the  door  slammed  down 
with  a  great  noise. 

Here  was  a  nice  business  for  the  eavesdopper!  I  scur- 
ried along  the  passage  as  stealthily  as  I  could  and  clambered 
back  into  the  store,  while  I  heard  the  sound  of  Laputa  and 
Henriques  ferreting  among  the  barrels.  I  managed  to 
throttle  Colin  and  prevent  him  barking,  but  I  could  not  get 
the  confounded  trap  to  close  behind  me.  Something  had 
jammed  in  it  and  it  remained  half  a  foot  open. 

I  heard  the  two  approaching  the  door  and  I  did  the  best 
thing  that  occurred  to  me.  I  pulled  Colin  over  the  trap, 
rolled  on  the  top  of  him,  and  began  to  snore  heavily  as  if  in  a 
drunken  slumber. 

The  key  was  turned  and  the  gleam  of  a  lantern  was 
thrown  on  the  wall.  It  flew  up  and  down  as  its  bearer 
cast  the  light  into  the  corners. 

"By  God,  he's  gone,"  I  heard  Henriques  say.  "The 
swine  was  listening,  and  he  has  bolted  now." 

"He  won't  bolt  far,"  Laputa  said.  "He  is  here.  He  is 
snoring  behind  the  counter." 


THE  STORE  AT  UMVELOS'  123 

These  were  anxious  moments  for  me.  I  had  a  firm  grip 
on  CoHn's  throat,  but  now  and  then  a  growl  escaped,  which 
was  fortunately  blended  with  my  snores.  I  felt  that  a  lan- 
tern was  flashed  on  me  and  that  the  two  men  were  peering 
down  at  the  heap  on  the  half-opened  trap.  I  think  that  was 
the  worst  minute  I  ever  spent  for,  as  I  have  said,  my  cour- 
age was  not  so  bad  in  action,  but  in  a  passive  game  it  oozed 
out  of  my  fingers. 

"He  is  safe  enough,"  Laputa  said,  after  what  seemed  to 
me  an  eternity.  "The  noise  was  only  the  rats  among  the 
barrels." 

I  thanked  my  Maker  that  they  had  not  noticed  the  other 
trap  door. 

"All  the  same  I  think  I'll  make  him  safer,"  said 
Henriques. 

Laputa  seemed  to  have  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"Come  back  and  get  to  business,"  he  said.  "Pve  told 
you  Pll  have  no  more  murder.  You  will  do  as  I  tell  you, 
Mr.  Henriques." 

I  did  not  catch  the  answer  but  the  two  went  out  and 
locked  the  door.  I  patted  the  outraged  Colin,  and  got  to  my 
feet  with  an  aching  side  where  the  confounded  lid  of  the 
trap  had  been  pressing.  There  was  no  time  to  lose,  for  the 
two  in  the  outhouse  would  soon  be  setting  out  and  I  must 
be  before  them. 

With  no  better  light  than  a  ray  of  the  moon  through 
the  window,  I  wrote  a  message  on  a  leaf  from  my  pocket- 
book.  I  told  of  the  plans  I  had  overheard,  and  especially 
I  mentioned  Dupree's  Drift  on  the  Letaba.  I  added  that 
I  was  going  to  the  Roorirand  to  find  the  secret  of  the  cave. 


124  PRESTER  JOHN 

and  in  one  final  sentence  implored  Arcoll  to  do  justice  on 
the  Portugoose.  That  was  all,  for  I  had  no  time  for  more. 
I  carefully  tied  the  paper  with  string  below  the  collar  of 
the  dog. 

Then  very  quietly  I  went  into  the  bedroom  next  door — 
the  side  of  the  store  farthest  from  the  outhouse.  The  place 
was  flooded  with  moonlight,  and  the  window  stood  open, 
as  I  had  left  it  in  the  afternoon.  As  softly  as  I  could  I 
swung  Colin  over  the  sill  and  clambered  after  him.  In  my 
haste  I  left  my  coat  behind  me  with  my  pistol  in  the  pocket. 

Now  came  a  check.  My  horse  was  stabled  in  the  shed, 
and  that  was  close  to  the  outhouse.  The  sound  of  leading 
him  out  would  most  certainly  bring  Laputa  and  Henriques 
to  the  door.  In  that  moment  I  all  but  changed  my  plans. 
I  thought  of  slipping  back  to  the  outhouse  and  trying  to 
shoot  the  two  men  as  they  came  forth.  But  I  reflected  that, 
before  I  could  get  them  both,  one  or  other  would  probably 
shoot  me.  Besides,  I  had  a  queer  sort  of  compunction  about 
killing  Laputa.  I  understood  now  why  Arcoll  had  stayed 
his  hand  from  murder,  and  I  was  beginning  to  be  of  his 
opinion  on  our  arch-enemy. 

Then  I  remembered  the  horses  tied  up  in  the  bush.  One 
of  them  I  could  get  with  perfect  safety.  I  ran  around  the 
end  of  the  store  and  into  the  thicket,  keeping  on  soft  grass 
to  dull  my  tread.  There,  tied  up  to  a  merula  tree,  were 
two  of  the  finest  beasts  I  had  seen  in  Africa.  I  selected  the 
better,  an  African  stallion  of  the  blaauw-schimmel^  or  blue- 
roan  type,  which  is  famous  for  speed  and  endurance.  Slip- 
ping his  bridle  from  the  branch,  I  led  him  a  little  way  into 
the  bush  in  the  direction  of  the  Rooirand. 


THE  STORE  AT  UMVELOS'  125 

Then  I  spoke  to  Colin.  "Home  with  you,"  I  said. 
"Home,  old  man,  as  if  you  were  running  down  a  tsessebe."  * 

The  dog  seemed  puzzled.  "Home,"  I  said  again,  point- 
ing west  in  the  direction  of  the  Berg.      "Home,  you  brute." 

And  then  he  understood.  He  gave  one  low  whine,  and 
cast  a  reproachful  eye  on  me  and  the  blue  roan.  Then  he 
turned,  and  with  his  head  down  set  off  with  great  lopes  on 
the  track  of  the  road  I  had  ridden  in  the  morning. 

A  second  later  and  I  was  in  the  saddle,  riding  hell-for- 
leather  for  the  north. 

•  A  species  of  buck,  famous  for  its  speed. 


CHAPTER  X 

I   GO   TREASURE   HUNTING 

For  a  mile  or  so  I  kept  the  bush,  which  was  open  and  easy 
to  ride  through,  and  then  turned  into  the  path.  The  moon 
was  high  and  the  world  was  all  a  dim  dark  green,  with  the 
track  a  golden  ivory  band  before  me.  I  had  looked  at  my 
watch  before  I  started,  and  seen  that  it  was  just  after  eight 
o'clock.  I  had  a  great  horse  under  me  and  less  than  fifty 
miles  to  cover.  Midnight  should  see  me  at  the  cave.  With 
the  password  I  would  gain  admittance,  and  there  would 
wait  for  Laputa  and  Henriques.  Then,  if  my  luck  held,  I 
should  see  the  inner  workings  of  the  mystery  which  had 
puzzled  me  ever  since  the  Kirkcaple  shore.  No  doubt  I 
should  be  roughly  treated,  tied  up  prisoner,  and  carried  with 
the  army  when  the  march  began.  But  till  Inanda's  Kraal 
my  life  was  safe,  and  before  that  came  the  ford  of  the  Letaba. 
Colin  would  carry  my  message  to  Arcoll,  and  at  the  Drift 
the  tables  would  be  turned  on  Laputa's  men. 

Looking  back  in  cold  blood,  it  seems  the  craziest  chain 
of  accidents  to  count  on  for  preservation.  A  dozen  possi- 
bilities might  have  shattered  any  link  of  it.  The  password 
might  be  wrong,  or  I  might  never  get  the  length  of  those 
who  knew  it.  The  men  in  the  cave  might  butcher  me  out 
of  hand,  or  Laputa  might  think  my  behaviour  a  sufficient 

warrant  for  the  breach  of  the  solemnest  vow.      Colin  might 

126 


I  GO  TREASURE  HUNTING  127 

never  get  to  Blaauwildebeestefontein,  Laputa  might  change 
his  route  of  march,  or  ArcolPs  men  might  fail  to  hold  the 
drift.  Indeed,  the  other  day  at  Portincross  I  was  so  over- 
come by  the  recollection  of  the  perils  I  had  dared  and  God's 
goodness  towards  me  that  I  built  a  new  hall  for  the  parish 
kirk  as  a  token  of  gratitude. 

Fortunately  for  mankind  the  brain  in  a  life  of  action  turns 
more  to  the  matter  in  hand  than  to  conjuring  up  the  chances 
of  the  future.  Certainly  it  was  no  discomfort  of  mind  that 
I  swung  along  the  moonlit  path  to  the  north.  Truth  to  tell, 
I  was  almost  happy.  The  first  honours  in  the  game  had 
fallen  to  me.  I  knew  more  about  Laputa  than  any  man 
living  save  Henriques;  I  had  my  finger  on  the  central  pulse 
of  the  rebellion.  There  was  hidden  treasure  ahead  of  me — a 
great  necklace  of  rubies,  Henriques  had  said.  Nay,  there 
must  be  more,  I  argued.  This  cave  of  the  Rooirand  was 
the  headquarters  of  the  rising,  and  there  must  be  stored  their 
funds — diamonds,  and  the  gold  they  had  been  bartered  for. 
I  believe  that  every  man  has  deep  in  his  soul  a  passion  for 
treasure  hunting,  which  will  often  drive  a  coward  into 
prodigies  of  valour.  I  lusted  for  that  treasure  of  jewels 
and  gold.  Once  I  had  been  high-minded,  and  thought  of 
my  duty  to  my  country,  but  in  that  night  ride  I  fear  that 
what  I  thought  of  was  my  duty  to  enrich  David  Crawfurd. 
One  other  purpose  simmered  in  my  head.  I  was  devoured 
with  wrath  against  Henriques.  Indeed,  I  think  that  was 
the  strongest  motive  for  my  escapade,  for  even  before  I 
heard  Laputa  tell  of  the  vows  and  the  purification,  I  had  it 
in  my  mind  to  go  at  all  costs  to  the  cave.  I  am  a  peaceable 
man  at  most  times,  but  I  think  I  would  rather  have  had  the 


128  PRESTER  JOHN 

Portugoose's  throat  in  my  hands  than  the  collar  of  Prester 
John. 

But  behind  my  thoughts  was  one  master  feeling,  that 
Providence  had  given  me  my  chance  and  I  must  make  the 
most  of  it.  Perhaps  the  Calvinism  of  my  father's  preaching 
had  unconsciously  taken  grip  of  my  soul.  At  any  rate  I  was 
a  fatalist  in  creed,  believing  that  what  was  willed  would 
happen  and  that  man  was  but  a  puppet  in  the  hands  of  his 
Maker.  I  looked  on  the  last  months  as  a  clear  course  which 
had  been  mapped  out  for  me.  Not  for  nothing  had  I  been 
given  a  clue  to  the  strange  events  which  were  coming.  It 
was  foreordained  that  I  should  go  alone  to  Umvelos',  and 
in  the  promptings  of  my  own  fallible  heart  I  believed  I  saw 
the  workings  of  Omnipotence.  Such  is  our  mortal  arrogance, 
and  yet  without  such  a  belief  I  think  that  mankind  would 
have  ever  been  content  to  bide  sluggishly  at  home. 

I  passed  the  spot  where  on  my  former  journey  I  had  met 
the  horses  and  knew  that  I  had  covered  more  than  half  the 
road.  My  ear  had  been  alert  for  the  sound  of  pursuit,  but 
the  bush  was  quiet  as  the  grave.  The  man  who  rode  my 
pony  would  find  him  a  slow  traveller,  and  I  pitied  the  poor 
beast  bucketed  along  by  an  angry  rider.  Gradually  a  hazy 
wall  of  purple  began  to  shimmer  before  me,  apparently  very 
far  off.  I  knew  the  ramparts  of  the  Rooirand,  and  let  my 
schimmel  feel  my  knees  in  his  ribs.  Within  an  hour  I  should 
be  at  the  cliff's  foot. 

I  had  trusted  for  safety  to  the  password,  but  as  it  turned 
out  I  owed  my  life  mainly  to  my  horse.  For  a  mile  or  so 
from  the  cliffs  I  came  to  the  fringes  of  a  great  army.  The 
bush  was  teeming  with  men,  and  I  saw  horses  picketed  in 


I  GO  TREASURE  HUNTING  129 

bunches  and  a  multitude  of  Cape-carts  and  light  wagons. 
It  was  like  a  colossal  gathering  for  naachtmaal  *  at  a  Dutch 
dorp,  but  every  man  was  black.  I  saw  through  a  corner  of 
my  eye  that  they  were  armed  with  guns,  though  many  carried 
in  addition  their  spears  and  shields.  Their  first  impulse  was 
to  stop  me.  I  saw  guns  fly  to  shoulders,  and  a  rush  towards 
the  path.  The  boldest  game  was  the  safest,  so  I  dug  my 
heels  into  the  sclihnmel  and  shouted  for  a  passage.  "Make 
way!"  I  cried  in  Kaffir.  "I  bear  a  message  from  the 
Inkulu.f     Clear  out,  you  dogs!" 

They  recognised  the  horse,  and  fell  back  with  a  salute. 
Had  I  but  known  it,  the  beast  was  famed  from  the  Zambesi 
to  the  Cape.  It  was  their  king's  own  charger  I  rode,  and 
who  dared  question  such  a  warrant?  I  heard  the  word  pass 
through  the  bush,  and  all  down  the  road  I  got  the  salute. 
In  that  moment  I  fervently  thanked  my  stars  that  I  had  got 
away  first,  for  there  would  have  been  no  coming  second 
for  me. 

At  the  cliff-foot  I  found  a  double  line  of  warriors  who 
had  the  appearance  of  a  royal  guard,  for  all  were  tall  men 
with  leopard-skin  cloaks.  Their  rifle  barrels  glinted  in  the 
moonlight,  and  the  sight  sent  a  cold  shiver  down  my  back. 
Above  them,  among  the  scrub  and  along  the  lower  slopes  of 
the  kranzes,  I  could  see  further  lines  with  the  same  gleaming 
weapons.  The  Place  of  the  Snake  was  in  strong  hands 
that  night. 

I  dismounted  and  called  for  a  man  to  take  my  horse. 
Two  of  the  guards  stepped  forward  in  silence  and  took  the 

*  The  Communion   Sabbath. 

tA  title  applied  only  to  the  greatest  chiefs. 


130  PRESTER  JOHN 

bridle.  This  left  the  track  to  the  cave  open,  and  with  as 
stiff  a  back  as  I  could  command  but  a  sadly  fluttering  heart, 
I  marched  through  the  ranks. 

The  path  was  lined  with  guards,  all  silent  and  rigid  as 
graven  images.  As  I  stumbled  over  the  stones  I  felt  that 
my  appearance  scarcely  fitted  the  dignity  of  a  royal  mes- 
senger. Among  those  splendid  men-at-arms  I  shambled 
along  in  old  breeches  and  leggings,  hatless,  with  a  dirty 
face,  dishevelled  hair,  and  a  torn  flannel  shirt.  My  mind 
was  no  better  than  my  body,  for  now  that  I  had  arrived  I 
found  my  courage  gone.  Had  it  been  possible  I  would 
have  turned  tail  and  fled,  but  the  boats  were  burned  behind 
me  and  I  had  no  choice.  I  cursed  my  rash  folly  and  won- 
dered at  my  exhilaration  of  an  hour  ago.  I  was  going  into 
the  black  mysterious  darkness,  peopled  by  ten  thousand  cruel 
foes.  My  knees  rubbed  against  each  other  and  I  thought 
that  no  man  had  ever  been  in  more  deadly  danger. 

At  the  entrance  to  the  gorge  the  guards  ceased,  and  I 
went  on  alone.  Here  there  was  no  moonlight  and  I  had 
to  feel  my  way  by  the  sides.  I  moved  very  slowly,  wonder- 
ing how  soon  I  should  find  the  end  my  folly  demanded. 
The  heat  of  the  ride  had  gone,  and  I  remember  feeling  my 
shirt  hang  clammily  on  my  shoulders. 

Suddenly  a  hand  was  laid  on  my  breast,  and  a  voice  de- 
manded, "The  word?" 

"Immanuel,"  I  said  hoarsely. 

Then  unseen  hands  took  both  my  arms  and  I  was  led 
farther  into  the  darkness.  My  hopes  revived  for  a  second. 
The  password  had  proved  true  and  at  any  rate  I  should 
enter  the  cave. 


I  GO  TREASURE  HUNTING  131 

In  the  darkness  I  could  see  nothing  but  I  judged  that  we 
stopped  before  the  stone  slab  which,  as  I  remembered,  filled 
the  extreme  end  of  the  gorge.  My  guide  did  something 
with  the  right-hand  wall  and  I  felt  myself  being  drawn 
into  a  kind  of  passage.  It  was  so  narrow  that  two  could 
not  go  abreast  and  so  low  that  the  creepers  above  scraped 
my  hair.  Something  clicked  behind  me  like  the  turnstile 
at  the  gate  of  a  show. 

Then  we  began  to  ascend  steps,  still  in  utter  darkness,  and 
a  great  booming  fell  on  my  ear.  It  was  the  falling  river 
which  had  scared  me  on  my  former  visit  and  I  marvelled 
that  I  had  not  heard  it  sooner.  Presently  we  came  out  into 
a  gleam  of  moonlight  and  I  saw  that  we  were  inside  the 
gorge  and  far  above  the  slab.  We  followed  a  narrow  shelf 
on  its  left  side  (or  "true  right,"  as  mountaineers  would  call 
it)  until  we  could  go  no  farther.  Then  we  did  a  terrible 
thing.  Across  the  gorge,  which  here  was  at  its  narrowest, 
stretched  a  slab  of  stone.  Far,  far  below  I  caught  the  moon- 
light on  a  mass  of  hurrying  waters.  This  was  our  bridge, 
and  though  I  have  a  good  head  for  crags,  I  confess  I  grew 
dizzy  as  we  turned  to  cross  it.  Perhaps  it  was  broader  than 
it  looked;  at  any  rate  my  guides  seemed  to  have  no  fear 
and  strode  across  it  as  if  it  were  a  highway,  while  I  fol- 
lowed in  a  sweat  of  fright.  Once  on  the  other  side,  I  was 
handed  over  to  a  second  pair  of  guides,  who  led  me  down 
a  high  pasage  running  into  the  heart  of  the  mountain. 

The  boom  of  the  river  sank  and  rose  as  the  passage  twined. 
Soon  I  saw  a  gleam  of  light  ahead  which  was  not  the  moon. 
It  grew  larger,  until  suddenly  the  roof  rose  and  I  found 
myself  in  a  gigantic  chamber.     So  high  it  was  that  I  could 


132  PRESTER  JOHN 

not  make  out  anything  of  the  roof,  though  the  place  was 
brightly  lit  with  torches  stuck  round  the  wall  and  a  great 
fire  which  burned  at  the  farther  end.  But  the  wonder  was 
on  the  left  side,  where  the  floor  ceased  in  a  chasm.  The  left 
wall  was  one  sheet  of  water,  where  the  river  fell  from  the 
heights  into  the  infinite  depth  below.  The  torches  and  the 
fire  made  the  sheer  stream  glow  and  sparkle  like  the  battle- 
ments of  the  Heavenly  City.  I  have  never  seen  any  sight  so 
beautiful  or  so  strange  and  for  a  second  my  breath  stopped 
in  admiration. 

There  were  two  hundred  men  or  more  in  the  chamber, 
but  so  huge  was  the  place  that  they  seemed  only  a  little  com- 
pany. They  sat  on  the  ground  in  a  circle,  with  their  eyes 
fixed  on  the  fire  and  on  a  figure  which  stood  before  it.  The 
glow  revealed  the  old  man  I  had  seen  on  that  morning  a 
month  before  moving  towards  the  cave.  He  stood  as  if  in 
a  trance,  straight  as  a  tree,  with  his  arms  crossed  on  his 
breast.  A  robe  of  some  shining  white  stuflt  fell  from  his 
shoulders,  and  was  clasped  round  his  middle  by  a  broad 
circle  of  gold.  His  head  was  shaven,  and  on  his  forehead 
was  bound  a  disc  of  carved  gold.  I  saw  from  his  gaze  that 
his  old  eyes  were  blind. 

"Who  comes? "  he  asked  as  I  entered. 

"A  messenger  from  the  Inkulu,'^  I  spoke  up  boldly.  "He 
follows  soon  with  the  white  man,  Henriques." 

Then  I  sat  down  in  the  back  row  of  the  circle  to  await 
events.  I  noticed  that  my  neighbour  was  the  fellow 
'Mwanga  whom  I  had  kicked  out  of  the  store.  Happily 
I  was  so  dusty  that  he  could  scarcely  recognise  me,  but  I  kept 


I  GO  TREASURE  HUNTING  133 

my  face  turned  away  from  him.  What  with  the  light  and 
the  warmth,  the  drone  of  the  water,  the  silence  of  the  folk, 
and  my  mental  and  physical  stress,  I  grew  drowsy  and  all 
but  slept. 


CHAPTER  XI 


THE   CAVE   OF  THE   ROOIRAND 


I  WAS  roused  by  a  sudden  movement.  The  whole  assembly 
stood  up,  and  each  man  clapped  his  right  hand  to  his  brow 
and  then  raised  it  high.  A  low  murmur  of  "Inkulu"  rose 
above  the  din  of  the  water.  Laputa  strode  down  the  hall, 
with  Henriques  limping  behind  him.  They  certainly  did  not 
suspect  my  presence  in  the  cave,  nor  did  Laputa  show  any 
ruffling  of  his  calm.  Only  Henriques  looked  weary  and 
cross.     I  guessed  he  had  had  to  ride  my  pony. 

The  old  man  whom  I  took  to  be  the  priest  advanced  to- 
wards Laputa  with  his  hands  raised  over  his  head.  A  pace 
before  they  met  he  halted,  and  Laputa  went  on  his  knees 
before  him.  He  placed  his  hands  on  his  head,  and  spoke 
some  words  which  I  could  not  understand.  It  reminded  me, 
so  queer  are  the  tricks  of  memory,  of  an  old  Sabbath-school 
book  I  used  to  have  which  had  a  picture  of  Samuel  ordain- 
ing Saul  as  king  of  Israel.  I  think  I  had  forgotten  my  own 
peril  and  was  enthralled  by  the  majesty  of  the  place — the 
wavering  torches,  the  dropping  wall  of  green  water,  above 
all,  the  figures  of  Laputa  and  the  Keeper  of  the  Snake,  who 
seemed  to  have  stepped  out  of  an  antique  world. 

Laputa  stripped  off  his  leopard  skin  till  he  stood  stark, 
a  noble  form  of  a  man.  Then  the  priest  sprinkled  some 
herbs  on  the  fire,  and  a  thin  smoke  rose  to  the  roof.     The 

134 


THE  CAVE  OF  THE  ROOIRAND  135 

smell  was  that  I  had  smelled  on  the  Kirkcaple  shore,  sweet, 
sharp,  and  strange  enough  to  chill  the  marrow.  And  round 
the  fire  went  the  priest  in  widening  and  contracting  circles, 
just  as  on  that  Sabbath  evening  in  spring. 

Once  more  we  were  sitting  on  the  ground,  all  except 
Laputa  and  the  Keeper.  Henriques  was  squatting  in  the 
front  row,  a  tiny  creature  among  so  many  burly  savages. 
Laputa  stood  with  bent  head  in  the  centre. 

Then  a  song  began,  a  wild  incantation  in  which  all  joined. 
The  old  priest  would  speak  some  words,  and  the  reply  came 
in  barbaric  music.  The  words  meant  nothing  to  me  5  they 
must  have  been  in  some  tongue  long  since  dead.  But  the 
music  told  its  own  tale.  It  spoke  of  old  kings  and  great 
battles,  of  splendid  palaces  and  strong  battlements,  of  queens 
white  as  ivory,  of  death  and  life,  love  and  hate,  joy  and 
sorrow.  It  spoke,  too,  of  desperate  things,  mysteries  of 
horror  long  shut  to  the  world.  No  Kaffir  ever  forged  that 
ritual.  It  must  have  come  straight  from  Prester  John  or 
Sheba's  queen,  or  whoever  ruled  in  Africa  when  time  was 
young. 

I  was  horribly  impressed.  Devouring  curiosity  and  a 
lurking  nameless  fear  filled  my  mind.  My  old  dread  had 
gone.  I  was  not  afraid  now  of  Kaffir  guns,  but  of  the 
black  magic  of  which  Laputa  had  the  key. 

The  incantation  died  away,  but  still  herbs  were  flung  on 
the  fire  till  the  smoke  rose  in  a  great  cloud,  through  which 
the  priest  loomed  misty  and  huge.  Out  of  the  smoke 
wreaths  his  voice  came  high  and  strange.  It  was  as  if  some 
treble  stop  had  been  opened  in  a  great  organ,  as  against  the 
bass  drone  of  the  cataract. 


136  PRESTER  JOHN 

He  was  asking  Laputa  questions,  to  which  came  answers 
in  that  rich  voice  which  on  board  the  liner  had  preached 
the  gospel  of  Christ.  The  tongue  I  did  not  know,  and  I 
doubt  if  my  neighbours  were  in  better  case.  It  must  have 
been  some  old  sacred  language — Phoenician,  Sabsean,  I  know 
not  what — which  had  survived  in  the  rite  of  the  Snake. 

Then  came  silence  while  the  fire  died  down  and  the 
smoke  eddied  away  in  wreaths  towards  the  river.  The 
priest's  lips  moved  as  if  in  prayer:  of  Laputa  I  saw  only  the 
back,  and  his  head  was  bared. 

Suddenly  a  rapt  cry  broke  from  the  Keeper.  "God  has 
spoken,"  he  cried.  "The  path  is  clear.  The  Snake  returns 
to  the  house  of  its  birth." 

An  attendant  led  forward  a  black  goat,  which  bleated 
feebly.  With  a  huge  antique  knife,  the  old  man  slit  its 
throat,  catching  the  blood  in  a  stone  ewer.  Some  was  flung 
on  the  fire,  which  had  burned  small  and  low. 

"Even  so,"  cried  the  priest,  "will  the  king  quench  in 
blood  the  hearth-fires  of  his  foes." 

Then  on  Laputa's  forehead  and  bare  breast  he  drew  a 
bloody  cross. 

"I  seal  thee,"  said  the  voice,  "priest  and  king  of  God's 
people." 

The  ewer  was  carried  round  the  assembly,  and  each  dipped 
his  finger  in  it  and  marked  his  forehead.  I  got  a  dab  to 
add  to  the  other  marks  on  my  face. 

"Priest  and  king  of  God's  people,"  said  the  voice  again, 
"I  call  thee  to  the  inheritance  of  John.  Priest  and  king 
was  he,  king  of  kings,  lord  of  hosts,  master  of  the  earth. 
When  he  ascended  on  high  he  left  to  his  son  the  sacred 


THE  CAVE  OF  THE  ROOIRAND  137 

Snake,  the  ark  of  his  valour,  to  be  God's  dower  and  pledge 
to  the  people  whom  He  has  chosen." 

I  could  not  make  out  what  followed.  It  seemed  to  be  a 
long  roll  of  the  kings  who  had  borne  the  Snake.  None  of 
them  I  knew,  but  at  the  end  I  thought  I  caught  the  name 
of  Chaka  the  Terrible,  and  I  remembered  ArcolPs  tale. 

The  Keeper  held  in  his  arms  a  box  of  curiously  wrought 
ivory,  about  two  feet  long  and  one  broad.  He  was  standing 
beyond  the  ashes  from  which,  in  spite  of  the  blood,  thin 
streams  of  smoke  still  ascended.  He  opened  it  and  drew 
out  something  which  swung  from  his  hand  like  a  cascade 
of  red  fire. 

"Behold  the  Snake!''  cried  the  Keeper,  and  every  man  in 
the  assembly,  excepting  Laputa  and  including  me,  bowed  his 
head  to  the  ground  and  cried  "Ow!  " 

"Ye  who  have  seen  the  Snake,"  came  the  voice,  "on  you 
is  the  vow  of  silence  and  peace.  No  blood  shall  ye  shed  of 
man  or  beast,  no  flesh  shall  ye  eat  till  the  vow  is  taken  from 
you.  From  the  hour  of  midnight  till  sunrise  on  the  second 
day  ye  are  bound  to  God.  Whoever  shall  break  the  vow, 
on  him  shall  the  curse  fall.  His  blood  shall  dry  in  his 
veins,  and  his  flesh  shrink  on  his  bones.  He  shall  be  an 
outlaw  and  accursed,  and  there  shall  follow  him  through 
life  and  death  the  Avengers  of  the  Snake.  Choose  ye,  my 
people  5  upon  you  is  the  vow." 

By  this  time  we  were  all  flat  on  our  faces,  and  a  great  cry 
of  assent  went  up.  I  lifted  my  head  as  much  as  I  dared 
to  see  what  would  happen  next. 

The  priest  raised  the  great  necklace  till  it  shone  above 
his  head  like  a  halo  of  blood.     I  have  never  seen  such  a 


138  PRESTER  JOHN 

jewel,  and  I  think  there  has  never  been  another  such  on 
earth.  Later  I  was  to  have  the  handling  of  it  and  could 
examine  it  closely,  though  now  I  had  only  a  glimpse.  There 
were  fifty-five  rubies  in  it,  the  largest  as  big  as  a  pigeon's 
egg,  and  the  least  not  smaller  tha«  my  thumb-nail.  In 
shape  they  were  oval,  cut  on  both  sides  e;t  cabocJion,  and 
on  each  certain  characters  were  engraved.  No  doubt  this 
detracted  from  their  value  as  gems,  yet  the  characters  might 
have  been  removed  and  the  stone  cut  in  facets,  and  these 
rubies  would  still  have  been  the  noblest  in  the  world.  I 
was  no  jewel  merchant  to  guess  their  value,  but  I  knew 
enough  to  see  that  here  was  wealth  beyond  human  compu- 
tation. At  each  end  of  the  string  was  a  great  pearl  and  a 
golden  clasp.  The  sight  absorbed  me  to  the  exclusion  of 
all  fear.  I,  David  Crawfurd,  nineteen  years  of  age,  and 
assistant-storekeeper  in  a  back-veld  dorp,  was  privileged 
to  see  a  sight  to  which  no  Portuguese  adventurer  had  ever 
attained.  There,  floating  on  the  smoke-wreaths,  was  the 
jewel  which  may  once  have  burned  in  Sheba's  hair. 

As  the  priest  held  the  collar  aloft,  the  assembly  rocked 
with  a  strange  passion.  Foreheads  were  rubbed  in  the  dust 
and  then  adoring  eyes  would  be  raised,  while  a  kind  of 
sobbing  shook  the  worshippers.  In  that  moment  I  learned 
something  of  the  secret  of  Africa,  of  Prester  John's  empire 
and  Chaka's  victories. 

"In  the  name  of  God,"  came  the  voice,  "I  deliver  to  the 
heir  of  John  the  Snake  of  John." 

Laputa  took  the  necklet  and  twined  it  in  two  loops  round 
his  neck  till  the  clasp  hung  down  over  his  breast.  The 
position  changed.      The  priest  knelt  before  him  and  received 


THE  CAVE  OF  THE  ROOIRAND  139 

his  hands  on  his  head.  Then  I  knew  that,  to  the  confusion 
of  all  talk  about  equality,  God  has  ordained  some  men  to 
be  kings  and  others  to  serve.  Laputa  stood,  naked  as  when 
he  was  born.  The  rubies  were  dulled  against  the  back- 
ground of  his  skin,  but  they  still  shone  with  a  dusky  fire. 
Above  the  blood-red  collar  his  face  had  the  passive  pride 
of  a  Roman  emperor.  Only  his  great  eyes  gloomed  and 
burned  as  he  looked  on  his  followers. 

"Heir  of  John,"  he  said,  "I  stand  before  you  as  priest 
and  king.  My  kingship  is  for  the  morrow.  Now  I  am 
the  priest  to  make  intercession  for  my  people." 

He  prayed — prayed  as  I  never  heard  man  pray  before — 
and  to  the  God  of  Israel!  It  was  no  heathen  fetich  he  was 
invoking,  but  the  God  of  whom  he  had  often  preached  in 
Christian  kirks.  I  recognised  texts  from  Isaiah  and  the 
Psalms  and  the  Gospels,  and  very  especially  from  the  two 
last  chapters  of  Revelation.  He  pled  with  God  to  forget 
the  sins  of  his  people,  to  recall  the  bondage  of  Zion.  It 
was  amazing  to  hear  these  bloodthirsty  savages  consecrated 
by  their  leader  to  the  meek  service  of  Christ.  An  enthusiast 
may  deceive  himself,  and  I  did  not  question  his  sincerity.  I 
knew  his  heart,  black  with  all  the  lusts  of  paganism.  I 
knew  that  his  purpose  was  to  deluge  the  land  with  blood. 
But  I  knew  also  that  in  his  eyes  his  mission  was  divine, 
and  that  he  felt  behind  him  all  the  armies  of  Heaven. 

^^Thou  hast  bee?i  a  strength  to  the  -poor^^  said  the  voice, 
"^  refuge  from  the  storm,  a  shadow  from  the  heat,  when 
the  blast  of  the  Terrible  Ones  is  as  a  storm^  against  a  wall. 

^^Thou  shalt  bring  down  the  noise  of  strangers,  as  the 


140  PRESTER  JOHN 

heat  171  dry  places;  the  branch  of  the  Terrible  Ones  shall 
be  brought  low. 

^^Afid  in  this  mounta'm  shall  the  Lord  of  Hosts  make  unto 
all  people  a  feast  of  fat  things^  a  feast  of  wines  on  the  lees, 
of  fat  things  full  of  marrow. 

'^And  He  will  destroy  in  this  mountaiii  the  face  of  the 
covering  cast  over  all  people,  a?id  the  vail  that  is  brought 
over  all  nations. 

^^And  the  rebuke  of  His  people  shall  He  take  away  from 
off  all  the  earth:  for  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it?^ 

I  listened  spellbound  as  he  prayed.  I  heard  the  phrases 
familiar  to  me  in  my  schooldays  at  Kirkcaple.  He  had  some 
of  the  tones  of  my  father's  voice,  and  when  I  shut  my  eyes 
I  could  have  believed  myself  a  child  again.  So  much  he 
had  got  from  his  apprenticeship  to  the  ministry.  I  won- 
dered vaguely  what  the  good  folks  who  had  listened  to  him 
in  churches  and  halls  at  home  would  think  of  him  now. 
But  there  was  in  the  prayer  more  than  the  supplications  of 
the  quondam  preacher.  There  was  a  tone  of  arrogant  pride, 
the  pride  of  the  man  to  whom  the  Almighty  is  only  another 
and  greater  Lord  of  Hosts.  He  prayed  less  as  a  suppliant 
than  as  an  ally.  A  strange  emotion  tingled  in  my  blood,  half 
awe,  half  sympathy.  As  I  have  said,  I  understood  that  there 
are  men  born  to  kingship. 

He  ceased  with  a  benediction.  Then  he  put  on  his 
leopard-skin  cloak  and  kilt,  and  received  from  the  kneeling 
chief  a  spear  and  shield.  Now  he  was  more  king  than  priest, 
more  barbarian  than  Christian.  It  was  as  a  king  that  he 
now  spoke. 

I  had  heard  him  on  board  the  liner  and  had  thought  his 


THE  CAVE  OF  THE  ROOIRAND  141 

voice  the  most  wonderful  I  had  ever  listened  to.  But  now 
in  that  great  resonant  hall  the  magic  of  it  was  doubled.  He 
played  upon  the  souls  of  his  hearers  as  on  a  musical  instru- 
ment. At  will  he  struck  the  chords  of  pride,  fury,  hate, 
and  mad  joy.  Now  they  would  be  hushed  in  breathless 
quiet,  and  now  the  place  would  echo  with  savage  assent. 
I  remember  noticing  that  the  face  of  my  neighbour, 
'Mwanga,  was  running  with  tears. 

He  spoke  of  the  great  days  of  Prester  John,  and  a  hun7 
dred  names  I  had  never  heard  of.  He  pictured  the  heroic 
age  of  his  nation,  when  every  man  was  a  warrior  and  hunter, 
and  rich  kraals  stood  in  the  spots  now  desecrated  by  the 
white  man,  and  cattle  wandered  on  a  thousand  hills.  Then 
he  told  tales  of  white  infamy,  lands  snatched  from  their 
rightful  possessors,  unjust  laws  which  forced  the  Ethiopian 
to  the  bondage  of  a  despised  caste,  the  finger  of  scorn  every- 
where, ai^d  the  mocking  word.  If  it  be  the  part  of  an  orator 
to  rouse  the  passion  of  his  hearers,  Laputa  was  the  greatest 
on  earth.  "What  have  ye  gained  from  the  white  man? "  he 
cried.  "A  bastard  civilisation  which  has  sapped  your  man- 
hood; a  false  religion  which  would  rivet  on  you  the  chains 
of  the  slave.  Ye,  the  old  masters  of  the  land,  are  now  the 
servants  of  the  oppressor.  And  yet  the  oppressors  are  few, 
and  the  fear  of  you  is  in  their  hearts.  They  feast  in  their 
great  cities,  but  they  see  the  writing  on  the  wall,  and  their 
eyes  are  anxiously  turning  lest  the  enemy  be  at  their  gates." 
I  cannot  hope  in  my  prosaic  words  to  reproduce  that  amaz- 
ing discourse.  Phrases  which  the  hearers  had  heard  at  mis- 
sion schools  now  suddenly  appeared,  not  as  the  white  man^s 
learning,  but  as  God's  message  to  His  own.     Laputa  fitted 


142  PRESTER  JOHN 

the  key  to  the  cipher  and  the  meaning  was  clear.  He  con- 
cluded, I  remember,  with  a  picture  of  the  overthrow  of 
the  alien  and  the  golden  age  which  should  dawn  for  the  op- 
pressed. Another  Ethiopian  empire  should  arise,  so  ma- 
jestic that  the  white  man  everywhere  would  dread  its  name, 
so  righteous  that  all  men  under  it  would  live  in  ease  and 
peace. 

By  rights,  I  suppose,  my  blood  should  have  been  boiling 
at  this  treason.  I  am  ashamed  to  confess  that  it  did  nothing 
of  the  sort.  My  mind  was  mesmerised  by  this  amazing 
man.  I  could  not  refrain  from  shouting  with  the  rest.  In- 
deed I  was  a  convert,  if  there  can  be  conversion  when  the 
emotions  are  dominant  and  there  is  no  assent  from  the  brain. 
I  had  a  mad  desire  to  be  of  Laputa's  party.  Or  rather,  I 
longed  for  a  leader  who  should  master  me  and  make  my 
soul  his  own,  as  this  man  mastered  his  followers.  I  have 
already  said  that  I  might  have  made  a  good  subaltern  sol- 
dier, and  the  proof  is  that  I  longed  for  such  a  general. 

As  the  voice  ceased  there  was  a  deep  silence.  The  hear- 
ers were  in  a  sort  of  trance,  their  eyes  fixed  glassily  on 
Laputa^s  face.  It  was  the  quiet  of  tense  nerves  and  imagina- 
tion at  white  heat.  I  had  to  struggle  with  a  spell  which 
gripped  me  equally  with  the  wildest  savage.  I  forced  myself 
to  look  round  at  the  strained  faces,  the  wall  of  the  cascade, 
the  line  of  torches.  It  was  the  sight  of  Henriques  that  broke 
the  charm.  Here  was  one  who  had  no  part  in  the  emotion. 
I  caught  his  eye  fixed  on  the  rubies  and  in  it  I  read  only  a 
devouring  greed.  It  flashed  through  my  mind  that  Laputa 
had  a  foe  in  his  own  camp,  and  the  Prester's  collar  a  votary 
whose  passion  was  not  that  of  worship. 


I  .st.\(;(;kiu;i>  ( ka/.ii.v  to  mv  kkkt  and  siiamhm;i)  kokwakd. 


THE  CAVE  OF  THE  ROOIRAND  143 

The  next  thing  I  remember  was  a  movement  among  the 
first  ranks.  The  chiefs  were  swearing  fealty.  Laputa  took 
off  the  collar  and  called  God  to  witness  that  it  should  never 
again  encircle  his  neck  till  he  had  led  his  people  to  victory. 
Then  one  by  one  the  great  chiefs  and  indunas  advanced  and 
swore  allegiance  with  their  foreheads  on  the  ivory  box. 
Such  a  collection  of  races  has  never  been  seen.  There  were 
tall  Zulus  and  Swazis  with  r'mg-kops  and  feather  head- 
dresses. There  were  men  from  the  north  with  heavy  brass 
collars  and  anklets  j  men  with  quills  in  their  ears,  and  ear- 
rings and  nose-rings;  shaven  heads  and  heads  with  wonder- 
fully twisted  hair;  bodies  naked  or  all  but  naked,  and  bodies 
adorned  with  skins  and  necklets.  Some  were  light  in  colour 
and  some  were  black  as  coal ;  some  had  squat  negro  features 
and  some  thin,  high-boned  Arab  faces.  But  in  all  there  was 
the  air  of  mad  enthusiasm.  For  a  day  they  were  forsworn 
from  blood,  but  their  wild  eyes  and  twitching  hands  told 
their  future  purpose. 

For  an  hour  or  two  I  had  been  living  in  a  dream  world. 
Suddenly  my  absorption  was  shattered,  for  I  saw  that  my 
time  to  swear  was  coming.  I  sat  in  the  extreme  back  row 
at  the  end  nearest  the  entrance,  and  therefore  I  should  nat- 
urally be  the  last  to  go  forward.  The  crisis  was  near  when 
I  should  be  discovered,  for  there  was  no  question  of  my 
shirking  the  oath. 

Then  for  the  first  time  since  I  entered  the  cave  I  realised 
the  frightful  danger  in  which  I  stood.  My  mind  had  been 
strung  so  high  by  the  ritual  that  I  had  forgotten  all  else. 
Now  came  the  rebound,  and  with  shaky  nerves  I  had  to  face 
discovery  and  certain  punishment.     In  that  moment  I  suf- 


144  PRESTER  JOHN 

fered  the  worst  terror  of  my  life.  There  was  much  to  come 
later  but  by  that  time  my  senses  were  dulled.  Now  they  had 
been  sharpened  by  what  I  had  seen  and  heard,  my  nerves 
were  already  quivering  and  my  fancy  on  fire.  I  felt  every 
limb  shaking  as  'Mwanga  went  forward.  The  cave  swam 
before  my  eyes,  heads  were  multiplied  giddily  and  I  was  only 
dimly  conscious  when  he  rose  to  return. 

Nothing  would  have  made  me  advance  had  I  not  feared 
Laputa  less  than  my  neighbours.  They  might  rend  me  to 
pieces,  but  to  him  the  oath  was  inviolable.  I  staggered 
crazily  to  my  feet  and  shambled  forwards.  My  eye  was 
fixed  on  the  ivory  box  and  it  seemed  to  dance  before  me  and 
retreat. 

Suddenly  I  heard  a  voice — the  voice  of  Henriques — cry, 
"By  God,  a  spy ! "  I  felt  my  throat  caught,  but  I  was  beyond 
resisting. 

It  was  released  and  I  was  pinned  by  the  arms.  I  must 
have  stood  vacantly,  with  a  foolish  smile,  while  unchained 
fury  raged  round  me.  I  seemed  to  hear  Laputa's  voice 
saying,  "It  is  the  storekeeper."  His  face  was  all  that  I 
could  see  and  it  was  unperturbed.  There  was  a  mocking 
ghost  of  a  smile  about  his  lips. 

Myriad  hands  seemed  to  grip  me  and  crush  my  breath, 
but  above  the  clamour  I  heard  a  fierce  word  of  command. 

After  that  I  fainted. 


CHAPTER  XII 

CAPTAIN  ARCOLL  SENDS  A   MESSAGE 

I  ONCE  read — I  think  in  some  Latin  writer — the  story  of  a 
man  who  was  crushed  to  a  jelly  by  the  mere  repeated  touch 
of  many  thousand  hands.  His  murderers  were  not  harsh, 
but  an  infinite  repetition  of  the  gentlest  handling  meant 
death.  I  do  not  suppose  that  I  was  very  brutally  manhan- 
dled in  the  cave.  I  was  trussed  up  tight  and  carried  out  to 
the  open  and  left  in  the  care  of  the  guards.  But  when  my 
senses  returned  I  felt  as  if  I  had  been  cruelly  beaten  in  every 
part.  The  rawhide  bonds  chafed  my  wrists  and  ankles  and 
shoulders,  but  they  were  the  least  part  of  my  aches.  To  be 
handled  by  a  multitude  of  Kaffirs  is  like  being  shaken  by 
some  wild  animal.  Their  skins  are  insensible  to  pain,  and 
I  have  seen  a  Zulu  stand  on  a  piece  of  redhot  iron  without 
noticing  it  till  he  was  warned  by  the  smell  of  burning  hide. 
Anyhow,  after  I  had  been  bound  by  Kaffir  hands  and  tossed 
on  Kaffir  shoulders,  I  felt  as  if  I  had  been  in  a  scrimmage 
of  mad  bulls. 

I  found  myself  lying  looking  up  at  the  moon.  It  was  the 
edge  of  the  bush,  and  all  around  was  the  stir  of  the  army 
getting  ready  for  the  road.  You  know  how  a  native  babbles 
and  chatters  over  any  work  he  has  to  do.  It  says  much  for 
Laputa's  iron  hand  that  now  everything  was  done  in  silence. 
I  heard  the  nickering  of  horses  and  the  jolt  of  carts  as  they 

145 


146  PRESTER  JOHN 

turned  from  the  bush  into  the  path.  There  was  the  sound 
of  hurried  whispering  and  now  and  then  a  sharp  command. 
And  all  the  while  I  lay,  staring  at  the  moon  and  wondering 
if  I  was  going  to  keep  my  reason. 

If  he  who  reads  this  doubts  the  discomfort  of  bonds  let  hirr; 
try  them  for  himself.  Let  him  be  bound  foot  and  hand 
and  left  alone,  and  in  half  an  hour  he  will  be  screaming  for 
release.  The  sense  of  impotence  is  stifling,  and  I  felt  as  if 
I  were  buried  in  some  landslip  instead  of  lying  under  the 
open  sky,  with  the  night  wind  fanning  my  face.  I  was 
in  the  second  stage  of  panic,  which  is  next  door  to  collapse. 
I  tried  to  cry,  but  could  only  raise  a  squeak  like  a  bat.  A 
wheel  started  to  run  round  in  my  head,  and,  when  I  looked 
at  the  moon,  I  saw  that  it  was  rotating  in  time.  Things  were 
very  bad  with  me. 

It  was  'Mwanga  who  saved  me  from  lunacy.  He  had 
been  appointed  my  keeper,  and  the  first  I  knew  of  it  was  a 
violent  kick  in  the  ribs.  I  rolled  over  on  the  grass  down  a 
short  slope.  The  brute  squatted  beside  me  and  prodded  me 
with  his  gun-barrel. 

"Ha,  Baas,"  he  said  in  his  queer  English.  "Once  you  or- 
dered me  out  of  your  store  and  treated  me  like  a  dog.  It  is 
'Mwanga's  turn  now.  You  are  'Mwanga's  dog  and  he  will 
skin  you  with  a  sjambok  soon." 

My  wandering  wits  were  coming  back  to  me.  I  looked 
into  his  bloodshot  eyes  and  saw  what  I  had  to  expect.  The 
cheerful  savage  went  on  to  discuss  just  the  kind  of  beating 
I  should  get  from  him.  My  bones  were  to  be  uncovered 
till  the  lash  curled  round  my  heart.  Then  the  jackals  would 
get  the  rest  of  me. 


ARCOLL  SENDS  A  MESSAGE  147 

This  was  ordinary  Kaffir  brag  and  it  made  me  angry.  But 
I  thought  it  best  to  go  cannily. 

"If  I  am  to  be  your  slave,"  I  managed  to  say,  "it  would 
be  a  pity  to  beat  me  so  hard.  You  would  get  no  more  work 
out  of  me." 

'Mwanga  grinned  wickedly.  "You  are  my  slave  for  a 
day  and  a  night.  After  that  we  kill  you — slowly.  You 
will  burn  till  your  legs  fall  off  and  your  knees  are  on  the 
ground,  and  then  you  will  be  chopped  small  with  knives." 

Thank  God,  my  courage  and  common  sense  were  coming 
back  to  me. 

"What  happens  to  me  tomorrow,"  I  said,  "is  the  Inkulu's 
business,  not  yours.  I  am  his  prisoner.  But  if  you  lift  your 
hand  on  me  today  so  as  to  draw  one  drop  of  blood  the  Inkulu 
will  make  short  work  of  you.  The  vow  is  upon  you,  and  if 
you  break  it  you  know  what  happens."  And  I  repeated,  in 
a  fair  imitation  of  the  priest's  voice,  the  terrible  curse  he 
had  pronounced  in  the  cave. 

You  should  have  seen  the  change  in  that  cur's  face.  I 
had  guessed  he  was  a  coward,  as  he  was  most  certainly  a 
bully,  and  now  I  knew  it.  He  shivered  and  drew  his  hand 
over  his  eyes. 

"Nay,  Baas,"  he  pleaded,  "it  was  but  a  joke.  No  harm 
shall  come  on  you  today.  But  tomorrow — "  and  his  ugly 
face  grew  more  cheerful. 

"Tomorrow  we  shall  see  what  we  shall  see,"  I  said 
stoically,  and  a  loud  drumbeat  sounded  through  the  camp. 

It  was  the  signal  for  moving,  for  in  the  east  a  thin  pale 
line  of  gold  was  beginning  to  show  over  the  trees.  The 
bonds  at  my  knees  and  ankles  were  cut,  and  I  was  bundled 


148  PRESTER  JOHN 

on  to  the  back  of  a  horse.  Then  my  feet  were  strapped 
firmly  below  its  belly.  The  bridle  of  my  beast  was  tied  to 
'Mwanga's,  so  that  there  was  little  chance  of  escape  even 
if  I  had  been  unshackled. 

My  thoughts  were  very  gloomy.  So  far  all  had  happened 
as  I  planned,  but  I  seemed  to  have  lost  my  nerve  and  I  could 
not  believe  in  my  rescue  at  the  Letaba,  while  I  thought  of 
Inanda's  Kraal  with  sheer  horror.  Last  night  I  had  looked 
into  the  heart  of  darkness  and  the  sight  had  terrified  me. 
What  part  should  I  play  in  the  great  purification?  Most 
likely  that  of  the  Biblical  scapegoat.  But  the  dolour  of 
my  mind  was  surpassed  by  the  discomfort  of  my  body.  I 
was  broken  with  pains  and  weariness,  and  I  had  a  desperate 
headache.  Also,  before  we  had  gone  a  mile,  I  began  to  think 
that  I  should  split  in  two.  The  paces  of  my  beast  were  un- 
even, to  say  the  best  of  it,  and  the  bump-bump  was  like  being 
on  the  rack.  I  remembered  that  the  saints  of  the  Covenant 
used  to  journey  to  prison  this  way,  especially  the  great  Mr. 
Peden,  and  I  wondered  how  they  liked  it.  When  I  hear  of 
a  man  doing  a  brave  deed  I  always  want  to  discover  whether 
at  the  time  he  was  well  and  comfortable  in  body.  That,  I 
am  certain,  is  the  biggest  ingredient  in  courage,  and  those 
who  plan  and  execute  great  deeds  in  bodily  weakness  have 
my  homage  as  truly  heroic.  For  myself,  I  had  not  the 
spirit  of  a  chicken  as  I  jogged  along  at  'Mwanga's  side.  I 
wished  he  would  begin  to  insult  me,  if  only  to  distract  my 
mind,  but  he  kept  obstinately  silent.  He  was  sulky  and,  I 
think,  rather  afraid  of  me. 

As  the  sun  got  up  I  could  see  something  of  the  host  around 
me.      I  am  no  hand  at  guessing  numbers,  but  I  should  put 


ARCOLL  SENDS  A  MESSAGE  149 

the  fighting  men  I  saw  at  not  less  than  twenty  thousand. 
Every  man  of  them  was  on  this  side  his  prime,  and  all  were 
armed  with  good  rifles  and  bandoliers.  There  were  none  of 
your  old  roers  *  and  decrepit  Enfields,  which  I  had  seen 
signs  of  in  Kaffir  kraals.  These  guns  were  new,  serviceable 
Mausers,  and  the  men  who  bore  them  looked  as  if  they 
knew  how  to  handle  them.  There  must  have  been  long 
months  of  training  behind  this  show,  and  I  marvelled  at 
the  man  who  had  organised  it.  I  saw  no  fieldguns,  and 
the  little  transport  they  had  was  evidently  for  food  only. 
We  did  not  travel  in  ranks  like  an  orthodox  column.  About 
a  third  of  the  force  was  mounted,  and  this  formed  the  centre. 
On  each  wing  the  infantry  straggled  far  afield,  but  there  was 
method  in  their  disorder,  for  in  the  bush  close  ranks  would 
have  been  impossible.  At  any  rate  we  kept  wonderfully 
well  together,  and  when  we  mounted  a  knoll  the  whole 
army  seemed  to  move  in  one  piece.  I  was  well  in  the  rear 
of  the  centre  column,  but  from  the  crest  of  a  slope  I  some- 
times got  a  view  in  front.  I  could  see  nothing  of  Laputa, 
who  was  probably  with  the  van,  but  in  the  very  heart  of 
the  force  I  saw  the  old  priest  of  the  Snake,  with  his  treasure 
carried  in  the  kind  of  litter  which  the  Portuguese  call  a 
machtla^  between  rows  of  guards.  A  white  man  rode  be- 
side him,  whom  I  judged  to  be  Henriques.  Laputa  trusted 
this  fellow  and  I  wondered  why.  I  had  not  forgotten  the 
look  on  his  face  while  he  had  stared  at  the  rubies  in  the  cave. 
I  had  a  notion  that  the  Portugoose  might  be  an  unsuspected 
ally  of  mine,  though  for  blackguard  reasons. 

About  ten  o'clock,  as  far  as  I  could  judge  by  the  sun,  we 

♦Boer  elephant  guns. 


150  PRESTER  JOHN 

passed  Umvelos',  and  took  the  right  bank  of  the  Labongo. 
There  was  nothing  in  the  store  to  loot,  but  it  was  overrun  by 
Kaffirs,  who  carried  off  the  benches  for  firewood.  It  gave 
me  an  odd  feeling  to  see  the  remains  of  the  meal  at  which 
I  had  entertained  Laputa  in  the  hands  of  a  dozen  warriors.  I 
thought  of  the  long  sunny  days  when  I  had  sat  by  my  nacht- 
maal  while  the  Dutch  farmers  rode  in  to  trade.  Now  these 
men  were  all  dead,  and  I  was  on  my  way  to  the  same  bourne. 

Soon  the  blue  line  of  the  Berg  rose  in  the  west,  and  from 
the  corner  of  my  eye,  as  I  rode,  I  could  see  the  gap  of  the 
Klein  Labongo.  I  wondered  if  Arcoll  and  his  men  were 
up  there  watching  us.  About  this  time  I  began  to  be  so 
wretched  in  body  that  I  ceased  to  think  of  the  future.  I 
had  had  no  food  for  seventeen  hours,  and  I  was  dropping 
from  lack  of  sleep.  The  ache  of  my  bones  was  so  great  that 
I  found  myself  crying  like  a  baby.  What  between  pain  and 
weakness  and  nervous  exhaustion,  I  was  almost  at  the  end 
of  my  tether,  and  should  have  fainted  dead  away  if  a  halt 
had  not  been  called.  But  about  midday,  after  we  had 
crossed  the  track  from  Blaauwildebeestefontein  to  the  Portu- 
guese frontier,  we  came  to  the  broad,  shallow  drift  of  the 
Klein  Labongo.  It  is  the  way  of  the  Kaffirs  to  rest  at 
noon,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  drift  we  encamped.  I 
remember  the  smell  of  hot  earth  and  clean  water  as  my 
horse  scrambled  up  the  bank.  Then  came  the  smell  of 
wood-smoke  as  fires  were  lit.  It  seemed  an  age  after  we 
stopped  before  my  feet  were  loosed  and  I  was  allowed  to  fall 
over  on  the  ground.  I  lay  like  a  log  where  I  fell  and  was 
asleep  in  ten  seconds. 

I  awoke  two  hours  later,  much  refreshed,  and  with  a  rag- 


ARCOLL  SENDS  A  MESSAGE  151 

ing  hunger.  My  ankles  and  knees  had  been  tied  again,  but 
the  sleep  had  taken  the  worst  stiffness  out  of  my  joints. 
The  natives  were  squatting  in  groups  round  their  fires,  but 
no  one  came  near  me.  I  satisfied  myself  by  straining  at  my 
bonds  that  this  solitude  gave  no  chance  of  escape.  I  wanted 
food,  and  I  shouted  on  'Mwanga,  but  he  never  came.  Then 
I  rolled  over  into  the  shadow  of  a  wacht-enbeetje  bush  to  get 
out  of  the  glare. 

I  saw  a  Kaffir  on  the  other  side  of  the  bush  who  seemed 
to  be  grinning  at  me.  Slowly  he  moved  round  to  my  side, 
and  stood  regarding  me  with  interest. 

"For  God's  sake  get  me  some  food,"  I  said. 

"Ja,  Baas,"  was  the  answer;  and  he  disappeared  for  a 
minute,  and  returned  with  a  wooden  bowl  of  hot  mealie-meal 
porridge,  and  a  calabash  full  of  water. 

I  could  not  use  my  hands,  so  he  fed  me  with  the  blade  of 
his  knife.  Such  porridge  without  salt  or  cream  is  beastly 
food,  but  my  hunger  was  so  great  that  I  could  have  eaten  a 
vat  of  it. 

Suddenly  it  appeared  that  the  Kaffir  had  something  to 
say  to  me.  As  he  fed  me  he  began  to  speak  in  a  low  voice 
in  English. 

"Baas,"  he  said,  "I  come  from  Ratitswan,  and  I  have  a 
message  for  you." 

I  guessed  that  Ratitswan  was  the  native  name  for  Arcoll. 
There  was  no  one  else  likely  to  send  a  message. 

"Ratitswan  says,"  he  went  on,  "  'Look  out  for  Dupree's 
Drift.'  I  will  be  near  you  and  cut  your  bonds;  then  you 
must  swim  across  when  Ratitswan  begins  to  shoot." 

The  news  took  all  the  weight  of  care  from  my  mind. 


152  PRESTER  JOHN 

Colin  had  got  home  and  my  friends  were  out  for  rescue.  So 
volatile  is  the  mood  of  nineteen  that  I  veered  round  from 
black  despair  to  an  unwarranted  optimism.  I  saw  myself 
already  safe  and  Laputa's  rising  scattered.  I  saw  my  hands 
on  the  treasure  and  Henriques'  ugly  neck  below  my  heel. 

"I  don't  know  your  name,"  I  said  to  the  Kaffir,  "but  you 
are  a  good  fellow.  When  I  get  out  of  this  business  I  won't 
forget  you." 

"There  is  another  message.  Baas,"  he  said  "It  is  written 
on  paper  in  a  strange  tongue.  Turn  your  head  to  the  bush 
and  see  J  I  will  hold  it  inside  the  bowl,  that  you  may  read  it." 

I  did  as  I  was  told,  and  found  myself  looking  at  a  dirty 
half  sheet  of  note  paper,  marked  by  the  Kaffir's  thumbs. 
Some  words  were  written  on  it  in  Wardlaw's  handj  and, 
characteristically,  in  Latin,  which  was  not  a  bad  cipher.  I 
read, — 

^^Henricus  de  Letaba  transeunda  apud  Duprei  vada  jam 
nos  certiores  fecit.^^  * 

I  had  guessed  rightly.  Henriques  was  a  traitor  to  the 
cause  he  had  espoused.  Arcoll's  mesage  had  given  me  new 
heart,  but  Wardlaw's  gave  me  information  of  tremendous 
value.  I  repented  that  I  had  ever  underrated  the  school- 
master's sense.  He  did  not  come  out  of  Aberdeen  for 
nothing. 

I  asked  the  Kaffir  how  far  it  was  to  Dupree's  Drift,  and 
was  told  three  hours'  march.  We  should  get  there  after 
the  darkening.  It  seemed  he  had  permission  to  ride  with 
me  instead  of  'Mwanga,  who  had  no  love  for  the  job.  How 
he  managed  this  I  do  not  know;  but  Arcoll's  men  had  their 

•  "Henriques  has  already  told  us  about  the  crossing  at  Dupree's  Drift." 


"well,    MR.    STOREKEEPER,"    HE    SAID,     "YOU^  AND    1    HAVE    MET 
BEFORE  UNDER  PLEASANTER  CIRCUMSTANCES." 


ARCOLL  SENDS  A  MESSAGE  153 

own  ways  of  doing  things.  He  undertook  to  set  me  free 
when  the  first  shot  was  fired  at  the  ford.  Meantime  I  bade 
him  leave  me,  to  avert  suspicion. 

There  is  a  story  of  one  of  King  Arthur's  knights — Sir 
Percival,  I  think — that  once,  riding  through  a  forest,  he 
found  a  lion  fighting  with  a  serpent.  He  drew  his  sword 
and  helped  the  lion,  for  he  thought  it  was  the  more  natural 
beast  of  the  two.  To  me  Laputa  was  the  lion,  and  Henriques 
the  serpent;  and  though  I  had  no  good  will  to  either,  I  was 
determined  to  spoil  the  serpent's  game.  He  was  after  the 
rubies,  as  I  had  fancied;  he  had  never  been  after  anything 
else.  He  had  found  out  about  ArcolPs  preparations  and  had 
sent  him  a  warning,  hoping,  no  doubt,  that  if  Laputa's  force 
was  scattered  on  the  Letaba,  he  would  have  a  chance  of  get- 
ting ofit  with  the  necklace  in  the  confusion.  If  he  succeeded, 
he  would  go  over  the  Lebombo  to  Mozambique,  and  what- 
ever happened  afterwards  in  the  rising  would  be  no  concern 
of  Mr.  Henriques.  I  determined  that  he  should  fail;  but 
how  to  manage  it  I  could  not  see.  Had  I  had  a  pistol,  I 
think  I  should  have  shot  him;  but  I  had  no  weapon  of  any 
kind.  I  could  not  warn  Laputa,  for  that  would  seal  my  own 
fate  even  if  I  were  believed.  It  was  clear  that  Laputa  must 
go  to  Dupree's  Drift,  for  otherwise  I  could  not  escape;  and  it 
was  equally  clear  that  I  must  find  the  means  of  spoiling  the 
Portugoose's  game. 

A  shadow  fell  across  the  sunlight,  and  I  looked  up  to 
see  the  man  I  was  thinking  of  standing  before  me.  He  had 
a  cigarette  in  his  mouth,  and  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of 
his  riding-breeches.  He  stood  eyeing  me  with  a  curious 
smile  on  his  face. 


154  PRESTER  JOHN 

"Well,  Mr.  Storekeeper,"  he  said,  "you  and  I  have  met 
before  under  pleasanter  circumstances." 

I  said  nothing,  my  mind  being  busy  with  what  to  do  at 
the  Drift. 

"We  were  shipmates,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,"  he  said.  "I 
dare  say  you  found  it  nicer  work  smoking  on  the  afterdeck 
than  lying  here  in  the  sun." 

Still  I  said  nothing.  If  the  man  had  come  to  mock  me, 
he  would  get  no  change  out  of  David  Crawfurd. 

"Tut,  tut,  don't  be  sulky.  You  have  no  quarrel  with 
me.  Between  ourselves,"  and  he  dropped  his  voice,  "I  tried 
to  save  you  J  but  you  had  seen  rather  too  much  to  be  safe. 
What  devil  prompted  you  to  steal  a  horse  and  go  to  the 
cave?  I  don't  blame  you  for  overhearing  usj  but  if  you  had 
had  the  sense  of  a  louse  you  would  have  gone  off  to  the 
Berg  with  your  news.  By  the  way,  how  did  you  manage 
it?  A  cellar,  I  suppose.  Our  friend  Laputa  was  a  fool  not 
to  take  better  precautions  j  but  I  must  say  you  acted  the 
drunkard  pretty  well." 

The  vanity  of  nineteen  is  an  incalculable  thing.  I  rose 
to  the  fly. 

"I  know  the  kind  of  precaution  you  wanted  to  take,"  I 
muttered. 

"You  heard  that  too?  Well,  I  confess  I  am  in  favour  of 
doing  a  job  thoroughly  when  I  take  it  up." 

"In  the  Koodoo  Flats,  for  example,"  I  said. 

He  sat  down  beside  me,  and  laughed  softly.  "You  heard 
my  little  story?  You  are  clever,  Mr.  Storekeeper,  but  not 
quite  clever  enough.  What  if  I  can  act  a  part  as  well  as 
yourself?"     And  he  thrust  his  yellow  face  close  to  mine. 


ARCOLL  SENDS  A  MESSAGE  155 

I  saw  his  meaning  and  did  not  for  a  second  believe  himj 
but  I  had  the  sense  to  temporise. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  did  not  kill  the  Dutchmen, 
and  did  not  mean  to  knife  me? " 

"I  mean  to  say  that  I  am  not  a  fool/'  he  said,  lighting 
another  cigarette.  "I  am  a  white  man,  Mr.  Storekeeper, 
and  I  play  the  white  man's  game.  Why  do  you  think  I 
am  here?  Simply  because  I  was  the  only  man  in  Africa 
who  had  the  pluck  to  get  to  the  heart  of  this  business.  I 
am  here  to  dish  Laputa,  and  by  God,  I  am  going  to  do  it.'' 

I  was  scarcely  prepared  for  such  incredible  bluff.  I  knew 
that  every  word  was  a  lie  but  I  wanted  to  hear  more,  for  the 
man  fascinated  me. 

"I  suppose  you  know  what  will  happen  to  you,"  he  said, 
flicking  the  ashes  from  his  cigarette.  "Tomorrow  at  In- 
anda's  Kraal,  when  the  vow  is  over,  they  will  give  you  a 
taste  of  Kaffir  habits.  Not  simple  death,  my  friend — that 
would  be  easy  enough — but  a  slow  death  with  every  refine- 
ment of  horror.  You  have  broken  into  their  sacred  places 
and  you  will  be  sacrificed  to  Laputa's  god.  I  have  seen  native 
torture  before,  and  his  own  mother  would  run  away  shriek- 
ing from  a  man  who  had  endured  it." 

I  said  nothing,  but  the  thought  made  my  flesh  creep. 

"Well,"  he  went  on,  "you're  in  an  awkward  plight,  but 
I  think  I  can  help  you.  What  if  I  can  save  your  life,  Mr. 
Storekeeper?  You  are  trussed  up  like  a  fowl,  and  can  do 
nothing.  I  am  the  only  man  alive  who  can  help  you.  I 
am  willing  to  do  it  too — on  my  own  terms." 

I  did  not  wait  to  hear  those  terms,  for  I  had  a  shrewd 
guess  what  they  would  be.     My  hatred  of  Henriques  rose 


156  PRESTER  JOHN 

and  choked  me.  I  saw  murder  and  trickery  In  his  mean 
eyes  and  cruel  mouth.  I  could  not,  to  be  saved  from  the 
uttermost  horror,  have  made  myself  his  ally. 

"Now  listen,  Mr.  Portugoose,"  I  cried.  "You  tell  me  you 
are  a  spy.  What  if  I  shout  that  through  the  camp?  There 
would  be  short  shrift  for  you  if  Laputa  hears  it." 

He  laughed  loudly.  "You  are  a  bigger  fool  than  I  took 
you  for.  Who  would  believe  you,  my  friend?  Not  Laputa. 
Not  any  man  in  this  army.  It  would  only  mean  tighter 
bonds  for  these  long  legs  of  yours.'' 

By  this  time  I  had  given  up  all  thought  of  diplomacy. 
"Very  well,  you  yellow-faced  devil,  you  will  hear  my  an- 
swer. I  would  not  take  my  freedom  from  you,  though  I 
were  to  be  boiled  alive.  I  know  you  for  a  traitor  to  the 
white  man's  cause,  a  dirty  I.D.B.  swindler,  whose  name  is 
a  byword  among  honest  men.  By  your  own  confession  you 
are  a  traitor  to  this  idiot  rising.  You  murdered  the  Dutch- 
men and  God  knows  how  many  more,  and  you  would  fain 
have  murdered  me.  I  pray  to  Heaven  that  the  men  whose 
cause  you  have  betrayed  and  the  men  whose  cause  you  would 
betray  may  join  to  stamp  the  life  out  of  you  and  send  your 
soul  to  hell.  I  know  the  game  you  would  have  me  join 
in  and  I  fling  your  offer  in  your  face.  But  I  tell  you  one 
thing — you  are  damned  yourself.  The  white  men  are  out, 
and  you  will  never  get  over  the  Lebombo.  From  black  or 
white  you  will  get  justice  before  many  hours  and  your  car- 
cass will  be  left  to  rot  in  the  bush.  Get  out  of  my  sight, 
you  swine." 

In  that  moment  I  was  so  borne  up  in  my  passion  that  I  for- 
got my  bonds  and  my  grave  danger.     I  was  inspired  like  a 


ARCOLL  SENDS  A  MESSAGE  157 

prophet  with  a  sense  of  approaching  retribution.  Henriques 
heard  me  out;  but  his  smile  changed  to  a  scowl,  and  a  flush 
rose  on  his  sallow  cheek. 

"Stew  in  your  own  juice,"  he  said,  and  spat  in  my  face. 
Then  he  shouted  in  Kafiir  that  I  had  insulted  him,  and  de- 
manded that  I  should  be  bound  tighter  and  gagged. 

It  was  ArcolPs  messenger  who  answered  his  summons. 
That  admirable  fellow  rushed  at  me  with  a  great  appearance 
of  savagery.  He  made  a  pretence  of  swathing  me  up  in 
fresh  rawhide  ropes,  but  his  knots  were  loose  and  the  thing 
was  a  farce.  He  gagged  me  with  what  looked  like  a  piece 
of  wood,  but  was  in  reality  a  chunk  of  dry  banana.  And 
all  the  while,  till  Henriques  was  out  of  hearing,  he  cursed 
me  with  a  noble  gift  of  tongues. 

The  drums  beat  for  the  advance,  and  once  more  I  was 
hoisted  on  my  horse,  while  ArcolPs  Kafiir  tied  my  bridle 
to  his  own.  A  Kaffir  cannot  wink,  but  he  has  a  way  of 
slanting  his  eyes  which  does  as  well,  and  as  we  moved  on 
he  would  turn  his  head  to  me  with  this  strange  grimace. 

Henriques  wanted  me  to  help  him  to  get  the  rubies — 
that  I  presumed  was  the  offer  he  had  meant  to  make.  Well, 
thought  I,  I  will  perish  before  the  jewel  reaches  the  Portu- 
guese's hands.  He  hoped  for  a  stampede  when  Arcoll  op- 
posed the  crossing  of  the  river,  and  in  the  confusion  intended 
to  steal  the  casket.  My  plan  must  be  to  get  as  near  the  old 
priest  as  possible  before  we  reached  the  ford.  I  spoke  to 
my  warder  and  told  him  what  I  wanted.  He  nodded,  and 
in  the  first  mile  we  managed  to  edge  a  good  way  forward. 
Several  things  came  to  aid  us.  As  I  have  said,  we  of  the 
centre  were  not  marching  in  close  ranks,  but  in  a  loose 


158  PRESTER  JOHN 

column,  and  often  it  was  possible  by  taking  a  short  cut  on 
rough  ground  to  join  the  column  some  distance  ahead. 
There  was  a  vlei  too  which  many  circumvented,  but  we 
swam,  and  this  helped  our  lead.  In  a  couple  of  hours  we 
were  so  near  the  priest's  litter  that  I  could  have  easily  tossed 
a  cricket  ball  on  the  head  of  Henriques  who  rode  beside  it. 

Very  soon  the  twilight  of  the  winter  day  began  to  fall. 
The  far  hills  grew  pink  and  mulberry  in  the  sunset,  and 
strange  shadows  stole  over  the  bush.  Still  creeping  forward, 
we  found  ourselves  not  twenty  yards  behind  the  litter,  while 
far  ahead  I  saw  a  broad,  glimmering  space  of  water  with 
a  high  woody  bank  beyond. 

"Dupree's  Drift,"  whispered  my  warder.  "Courage,  In- 
koos;  in  an  hour's  time  you  will  be  free." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    DRIFT    OF    THE    LETABA 

The  dusk  was  gathering  fast  as  we  neared  the  stream.  From 
the  stagnant  reaches  above  and  below  a  fine  white  mist  was 
rising,  but  the  long  shallows  of  the  ford  were  clear.  My 
heart  was  beginning  to  flutter  wildly,  but  I  kept  a  tight 
grip  on  myself  and  prayed  for  patience.  As  I  stared  into 
the  evening  my  hopes  sank.  I  had  expected,  foolishly 
enough,  to  see  on  the  far  bank  some  sign  of  my  friends,  but 
the  tall  bush  was  dead  and  silent. 

The  drift  slants  across  the  river  at  an  acute  angle,  roughly 
S.S.W.  I  did  not  know  this  at  the  time,  and  was  amazed 
to  see  the  van  of  the  march  turn  apparently  upstream. 
Laputa's  great  voice  rang  out  in  some  order  which  was  re- 
peated down  the  column,  and  the  wide  flanks  of  the  force 
converged  on  the  narrow  cart  track  which  entered  the  water. 
We  had  come  to  a  standstill  while  the  front  ranks  began  the 
passage. 

I  sat  shaking  with  excitement,  my  eyes  straining  into 
the  gloom.  Water  holds  the  evening  light  for  long,  and 
I  could  make  out  pretty  clearly  what  was  happening.  The 
leading  horsemen  rode  into  the  stream  with  Laputa  in  front. 
The  ford  is  not  the  best  going  so  they  had  to  pick  their 
way,  but  in  five  or  ten  minutes  they  were  over.  Then  came 
some  of  the  infantry  of  the  flanks,  who  crossed  with  the 

159 


160  PRESTER  JOHN 

water  to  their  waists,  and  their  guns  held  high  above  their 
heads.  They  made  a  portentous  splashing  but  not  a  sound 
came  from  their  throats.  I  shall  never  know  how  Laputa 
imposed  silence  on  the  most  noisy  race  on  earth.  Several 
thousand  footmen  must  have  followed  the  riders  and  dis- 
appeared Into  the  far  bush.  But  not  a  shot  came  from  the 
bluffs  in  front. 

I  watched  with  a  sinking  heart.  Arcoll  had  failed  and 
there  was  to  be  no  check  at  the  drift.  There  remained  for 
me  only  the  horrors  at  Inanda's  Kraal.  I  resolved  to  make 
a  dash  for  freedom,  at  all  costs,  and  was  in  the  act  of  telling 
ArcolPs  man  to  cut  my  bonds,  when  a  thought  occurred 
to  me. 

Henriques  was  after  the  rubies,  and  it  was  his  interest 
to  get  Laputa  across  the  river  before  the  attack  began.  It 
was  ArcolPs  business  to  split  the  force,  and  above  all  to 
hold  up  the  leader.  Henriques  would  tell  him,  and  for  that 
matter  he  must  have  assumed  himself,  that  Laputa  would 
ride  in  the  centre  of  the  force.  Therefore  there  would  be 
no  check  till  the  time  came  for  the  priest's  litter  to  cross. 

It  was  well  that  I  had  not  had  my  bonds  cut.  Henriques 
came  riding  towards  me,  his  face  sharp  and  bright  as  a 
ferret's.  He  pulled  up  and  asked  if  I  were  safe.  My  Kaffir 
showed  my  strapped  elbows  and  feet,  and  tugged  at  the  cords 
to  prove  their  tightness. 

"Keep  him  well,"  said  Henriques,  "or  you  will  answer  to 
Inkulu.  Forward  with  him  now  and  get  him  through  the 
water."    Then  he  turned  and  rode  back. 

My  warder,  apparently  obeying  orders,  led  me  out  of  the 
column  and  into  the  bush  on  the  right  hand.     Soon  we  were 


THE  DRIFT  OF  THE  LETABA  161 

abreast  of  the  litter  and  some  twenty  yards  to  the  west  of  it. 
The  water  gleamed  through  the  trees  a  few  paces  in  front. 
I  could  see  the  masses  of  infantry  converging  on  the  drift. 
And  the  churning  like  a  cascade  which  they  made  in  the 
passage. 

Suddenly  from  the  far  bank  came  an  order.  It  was 
Laputa's  voice,  thin  and  high-pitched,  as  the  Kaffir  cries 
when  he  wishes  his  words  to  carry  a  great  distance.  Hen- 
riques  repeated  it  and  the  infantry  halted.  The  riders  of 
the  column  in  front  of  the  litter  began  to  move  into  the 
stream. 

We  should  have  gone  with  them,  but  instead  we  pulled 
our  horses  back  into  the  darkness  of  the  bush.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  odd  things  were  happening  around  the  priest's 
litter.  Henriques  had  left  it,  and  dashed  past  me  so  close 
that  I  could  have  touched  him.  From  somewhere  among 
the  trees  a  pistol-shot  cracked  into  the  air. 

As  if  in  answer  to  a  signal  the  high  bluff  across  the  stream 
burst  into  a  sheet  of  fire.  "A  sheet  of  fire"  sounds  odd 
enough  for  scientific  warfare.  I  saw  that  my  friends  were 
using  shotguns  and  firing  with  black  powder  into  the  mob 
in  the  water.  It  was  humane  and  it  was  good  tactics,  for 
the  flame  in  the  grey  dusk  had  the  appearance  of  a  heavy 
battery  of  ordnance. 

Once  again  I  heard  Henriques'  voice.  He  was  turning 
the  column  to  the  right.  He  shouted  to  them  to  get  into 
cover  and  take  the  water  higher  up.  I  thought,  too,  that 
from  far  away  I  heard  Laputa. 

These  were  maddening  seconds.  We  had  left  the  busi- 
ness of  cutting  my  bonds  almost  too  late.     In  the  darkness 


162  PRESTER  JOHN 

of  the  bush  the  strips  of  hide  could  only  be  felt  for,  and 
my  Kaffir  had  a  woefully  blunt  knife.  Reims  are  always 
tough  to  sever  and  mine  had  to  be  sawn  through.  Soon  my 
arms  were  free,  and  I  was  plucking  at  my  other  bonds.  The 
worst  were  those  on  my  ankles  below  the  horse's  belly.  The 
Kaffir  fumbled  away  in  the  dark,  and  pricked  my  beast  so 
that  he  reared  and  struck  out.  And  all  the  while  I  was 
choking  with  impatience  and  gabbling  prayers  to  myself. 

The  men  on  the  other  side  had  begun  to  use  ball-cartridge. 
I  could  see  through  a  gap  the  centre  of  the  river,  and  it  was 
filled  with  a  mass  of  struggling  men  and  horses.  I  remember 
that  it  amazed  me  that  no  shot  was  fired  in  return.  Then 
I  remembered  the  vow  and  was  still  more  amazed  at  the 
power  of  a  ritual  on  that  savage  horde. 

The  column  was  moving  past  me  to  the  right.  It  was 
a  disorderly  rabble  which  obeyed  Henriques'  orders.  Bullets 
began  to  sing  through  the  trees  and  one  rider  was  hit  in 
the  shoulder  and  came  down  with  a  crash.  This  increased 
the  confusion,  for  most  of  them  dismounted  and  tried  to 
lead  their  horses  in  the  cover.  The  infantry  coming  in  from 
the  wings  collided  with  them  and  there  was  a  struggle  of 
excited  beasts  and  men  in  the  thickets  of  thorn  and  mopani. 
And  still  my  Kaffir  was  trying  to  get  my  ankles  loose  as 
fast  as  a  plunging  horse  would  let  him. 

At  last  I  was  free  and  dropped  stiffly  to  the  ground.  I 
fell  prone  on  my  face  with  cramp,  and  when  I  got  up  I 
rolled  like  a  drunken  man.  Here  I  made  a  great  blunder.  I 
should  have  left  my  horse  with  my  Kaffir  and  bidden  him 
follow  me.     But  I  was  too  eager  to  be  cautious,  so  I  let  it 


THE  DRIFT  OF  THE  LETABA  163 

go  and,  crying  to  the  Kaffir  to  await  me,  I  ran  towards  the 
litter. 

Henriques  had  laid  his  plans  well.  The  column  had 
abandoned  the  priest,  and  by  the  litter  were  only  the  two 
bearers.  As  I  caught  sight  of  them  one  fell  with  a  bullet 
in  his  chest.  The  other,  wild  with  fright,  kept  turning  his 
head  to  every  quarter  of  the  compass.  Another  bullet  passed 
close  to  his  head.  This  was  too  much  for  him  and  with  a 
yell  he  ran  away. 

As  I  broke  through  the  thicket  I  looked  to  the  quarter 
whence  the  bullets  had  come.  These,  I  could  have  taken 
my  oath,  were  not  fired  by  my  friends  on  the  further  bank. 
It  was  close-quarter  shooting,  and  I  knew  who  had  done  it. 
But  I  saw  nobody.  The  last  few  yards  of  the  road  were 
clear,  and  only  out  in  the  water  was  the  struggling  shouting 
mass  of  humanity.  I  saw  a  tall  man  on  a  big  horse  plunge 
into  the  river  on  his  way  back.  It  must  be  Laputa  returning 
to  command  the  panic. 

My  business  was  not  with  Laputa  but  with  Henriques. 
The  old  priest  in  the  litter,  who  had  been  sleeping,  had  roused 
himself,  and  was  looking  vacantly  round  him.  He  did  not 
look  long.  A  third  bullet,  fired  from  a  dozen  yards  away, 
drilled  a  hole  in  his  forehead.  He  fell  back  dead,  and  the 
ivory  box  which  lay  on  his  lap  tilted  forward  on  the  ground. 

I  had  no  weapon  of  any  kind  and  I  did  not  want  the  fourth 
bullet  for  myself.  Henriques  was  too  pretty  a  shot  to  trifle 
with.  I  waited  quietly  on  the  edge  of  the  shade  till  the 
Portugoose  came  out  of  the  thicket.  I  saw  him  running  for- 
ward with  a  rifle  in  his  hand.  A  whinny  from  a  horse  told 
me  that  somewhere  near  his  beast  was  tied  up.     It  was  all 


164  PRESTER  JOHN 

but  dark,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  could  see  the  lust  of 
greed  in  his  eyes  as  he  rushed  to  the  litter. 

Very  softly  I  stole  behind  him.  He  tore  off  the  lid  of 
the  box  and  pulled  out  the  great  necklace.  For  a  second  it 
hung  in  his  hands,  but  only  for  a  second.  So  absorbed  was 
he  that  he  did  not  notice  me  standing  full  before  him.  Nay, 
he  lifted  his  head  and  gave  me  the  finest  chance  of  my  life. 
I  was  something  of  a  boxer,  and  all  my  accumulated  fury 
went  into  the  blow.  It  caught  him  on  the  point  of  the 
chin,  and  his  neck  cricked  like  the  bolt  of  a  rifle.  He  fell 
limply  on  the  ground  and  the  jewels  dropped  from  his  hand. 

I  picked  them  up  and  stuffed  them  into  my  breeches 
pocket. 

Then  I  pulled  the  pistol  out  of  his  belt.  It  was  six- 
chambered,  and  I  knew  that  only  one  had  been  emptied.  I 
remembered  feeling  extraordinarily  cool  and  composed,  and 
yet  my  wits  must  have  been  wandering  or  I  would  have  never 
taken  the  course  I  did. 

The  right  thing  to  do — on  ArcolPs  instructions — was  to 
make  for  the  river  and  swim  across  to  my  friends.  But 
Laputa  was  coming  back,  and  I  dreaded  meeting  him. 
Laputa  seemed  to  my  heated  fancy  omnipresent.  I  thought 
of  him  as  covering  the  whole  bank  of  the  river,  whereas  I 
might  easily  have  crossed  a  little  further  down  and  made 
my  way  up  the  other  bank  to  my  friends.  It  was  plain  that 
Laputa  intended  to  evade  the  patrol,  not  to  capture  it,  and 
there,  consequently,  I  should  be  safe.  The  next  best  thing 
was  to  find  ArcolPs  Kaffir  who  was  not  twenty  yards  away, 
get  some  sort  of  horse  and  break  for  the  bush.  Long  before 
morning  we  should  have  been  over  the  Berg  and  in  safety. 


THE  DRIFT  OF  THE  LETABA  165 

Nay,  if  I  wanted  a  mountj  there  was  Henriques'  whinnying 
horse  a  few  paces  off. 

Instead  I  did  the  craziest  thing  of  all.  With  the  jewels 
in  one  pocket  and  the  Portugoose's  pistol  in  the  other,  I 
started  running  back  the  road  we  had  come. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

I    CARRY    THE    COLLAR    OF    PRESTER    JOHN 

I  RAN  till  my  breath  grew  short,  for  some  kind  of  swift  mo- 
tion I  had  to  have  or  choke.  The  events  of  the  last  few 
minutes  had  inflamed  my  brain.  For  the  first  time  in  my 
life  I  had  seen  men  die  by  violence — nay,  by  brutal  murder. 
I  had  put  my  soul  into  the  blow  which  laid  out  Henriques 
and  I  was  still  hot  with  the  pride  of  it.  Also  I  had  in  my 
pocket  the  fetich  of  the  whole  black  world;  I  had  taken 
their  Ark  of  the  Covenant,  and  soon  Laputa  would  be  on 
my  trail.  Fear,  pride,  and  a  blind  exultation  all  throbbed 
in  my  veins.  I  must  have  run  three  miles  before  I  came  to 
my  sober  senses. 

I  put  my  ear  to  the  ground  but  heard  no  sound  of  pursuit. 
Laputa,  I  argued,  would  have  enough  to  do  for  a  little, 
shepherding  his  flock  over  the  water.  He  might  surround 
and  capture  the  patrol  or  he  might  evade  it;  the  vow  pre- 
vented him  from  fighting  it.  On  the  whole  I  was  clear  that 
he  would  ignore  it  and  push  on  for  the  rendezvous.  All  this 
would  take  time  and  the  business  of  the  priest  would  have 
to  wait.  When  Henriques  came  to  he  would  no  doubt  have 
a  story  to  tell,  and  the  scouts  would  be  on  my  trail.  I  wished 
I  had  shot  the  Portugoose  while  I  was  at  the  business.  It 
would  have  been  no  murder  but  a  righteous  execution. 

Meanwhile  I  must  get  off  the  road.     The  sand  had  been 

1 66 


COLLAR  OF  PRESTER  JOHN  167 

disturbed  by  an  army,  so  there  was  little  fear  of  my  steps 
being  traced.  Still  it  was  only  wise  to  leave  the  track  which 
I  would  be  assumed  to  have  taken,  for  Laputa  would  guess 
I  had  fled  back  the  way  to  Blaauwildebeestefontein.  I 
turned  into  the  bush,  which  here  was  thin  and  sparse  like 
whins  on  a  common. 

The  Berg  must  be  my  goal.  Once  on  the  plateau  I  would 
be  inside  the  white  man's  lines.  Down  here  in  the  plains  I 
was  in  the  country  of  my  enemies.  ArcoU  meant  to  fight 
on  the  uplands  when  it  came  to  fighting.  The  black  man 
might  rage  as  he  pleased  in  his  own  flats  but  we  stood  to 
defend  the  gates  of  the  hills.  Therefore  over  the  Berg  I 
must  be  before  morning  or  there  would  be  a  dead  man  with 
no  tales  to  tell. 

I  think  that  even  at  the  start  of  that  night's  work  I  real- 
ized the  exceeding  precariousness  of  my  chances.  Some 
thirty  miles  of  bush  and  swamp  separated  me  from  the  foot 
of  the  mountains.  After  that  there  was  the  climbing  of 
them,  for  at  the  point  opposite  where  I  now  stood  the  Berg 
does  not  descend  sharply  on  the  plain,  but  is  broken  into 
foot-hills  around  the  glens  of  the  Klein  Letaba  and  the 
Letsitela.  From  the  spot  where  these  rivers  emerge  on  the 
flats  to  the  crown  of  the  plateau  is  ten  miles  at  the  shortest. 
I  had  a  start  of  an  hour  or  so,  but  before  dawn  I  had  to 
traverse  forty  miles  of  unknown  and  difficult  country.  Be- 
hind me  would  follow  the  best  trackers  in  Africa  who  knew 
every  foot  of  the  wilderness.  It  was  a  wild  hazard  but  it 
was  my  only  hope.  At  this  time  I  was  feeling  pretty  cour- 
ageous.    For  one  thing  I  had  Henriques'  pistol  close  to  my 


168  PRESTER  JOHN 

leg,  and  for  another  I  still  thrilled  with  the  satisfaction  of 
having  smitten  his  face. 

I  took  the  rubies,  and  stowed  them  below  my  shirt  and 
next  my  skin.  I  remember  taking  stock  of  my  equipment 
and  laughing  at  the  humour  of  it.  One  of  the  heels  was 
almost  twisted  off  my  boots,  and  my  shirt  and  breeches  were 
old  at  the  best  and  ragged  from  hard  usage.  The  whole 
outfit  would  have  been  dear  at  five  shillings,  or  seven-and- 
six  with  the  belt  thrown  in.  Then  there  was  the  Portugoose's 
pistol  costing,  say,  a  guinea  j  and  last,  the  Prester's  collar, 
worth  several  millions. 

What  was  more  important  than  my  clothing  was  my  bodily 
strength.  I  was  still  very  sore  from  the  bonds  and  the  jog 
of  that  accursed  horse,  but  exercise  was  rapidly  suppling  my 
joints.  About  five  hours  ago  I  had  eaten  a  filling,  though 
not  very  sustaining,  meal,  and  I  thought  I  could  go  on  very 
well  till  morning.  But  I  was  still  badly  in  arrears  with  my 
sleep,  and  there  was  no  chance  of  my  snatching  a  minute 
till  I  was  over  the  Berg.  It  was  going  to  be  a  race  against 
time,  and  I  swore  that  I  should  drive  my  body  to  the  last 
ounce  of  strength. 

Moonrise  was  still  an  hour  or  two  away  and  the  sky  was 
bright  with  myriad  stars.  I  knew  now  what  starlight  meant, 
for  there  was  ample  light  to  pick  my  way  by.  I  steered  by 
the  Southern  Cross  for  I  was  aware  that  the  Berg  ran  north 
and  south,  and  with  that  constellation  on  my  left  hand  I 
was  bound  to  reach  it  sooner  or  later.  The  bush  closed 
around  me  with  its  mysterious  dull  green  shades,  and  trees, 
which  in  the  daytime  were  thin  scrub,  now  loomed  like  tall 
timber.     It  was  very  eerie  moving,  a  tiny  fragment  of  mor- 


COLLAR  OF  PRESTER  JOHN  169 

tality,  in  that  great  wide  silent  wilderness,  with  the  starry 
vault,  like  an  impassive  celestial  audience,  watching  with 
many  eyes.  They  cheered  me,  those  stars.  In  my  hurry  and 
fear  and  passion  they  spoke  of  the  old  calm  dignities  of  man. 
I  felt  less  alone  when  I  turned  my  face  to  the  lights  which 
were  slanting  alike  on  this  eerie  bush  and  on  the  homely 
streets  of  Kirkcaple. 

The  silence  did  not  last  long.  First  came  the  long  drawn 
howl  of  a  wolf,  to  be  answered  by  others  from  every  quar- 
ter of  the  compass.  This  serenade  went  on  for  a  bit  till  the 
jackals  chimed  in  with  their  harsh  bark.  I  had  been  caught 
by  darkness  before  this  when  hunting  on  the  Berg,  and  I 
was  not  afraid  of  wild  beasts.  That  is  one  terror  of  the  bush 
which  travellers'  tales  have  put  too  high.  It  was  true  that 
I  might  meet  a  hungry  lion  but  the  chance  was  remote,  and 
I  had  my  pistol.  Once  indeed  a  huge  animal  bounded  across 
the  road  a  little  in  front  of  me.  For  a  moment  I  took  him 
for  a  lion,  but  on  reflection  I  was  inclined  to  think  him  a 
very  large  bush-pig. 

By  this  time  I  was  out  of  the  thickest  bush  and  into  a 
piece  of  parkland  with  long,  waving  tambuki  grass,  which 
the  Kaffirs  would  burn  later.  The  moon  was  coming  up, 
and  her  faint  rays  silvered  the  flat  tops  of  the  mimosa  trees. 
I  could  hear  and  feel  around  me  the  rustling  of  animals. 
Once  or  twice  a  big  buck — an  eland  or  a  koodoo — broke 
cover,  and  at  the  sight  of  me  went  off  snorting  down  the 
slope.  Also  there  were  droves  of  smaller  game — rhebok 
and  springbok  and  duikers — which  brushed  past  at  full  gal- 
lop without  even  noticing  me. 

The  sight  was  so  novel  that  it  set  me  thinking.     That 


170  PRESTER  JOHN 

shy  wild  things  should  stampede  like  this  could  only  mean 
that  they  had  been  thoroughly  scared.  Now  obviously  the 
thing  that  scared  them  must  be  on  this  side  of  the  Letaba. 
This  must  mean  that  Laputa's  army,  or  a  large  part  of  it, 
had  not  crossed  at  Dupree's  Drift  but  had  gone  up  the  stream 
to  some  higher  ford.  If  that  was  so,  I  must  alter  my  course; 
so  I  bore  away  to  the  right  for  a  mile  or  two,  making  a  line 
due  northwest. 

In  about  an  hour's  time  the  ground  descended  steeply,  and 
I  saw  before  me  the  shining  reaches  of  a  river.  I  had  the 
chief  features  of  the  countryside  clear  in  my  mind,  both 
from  old  porings  over  maps,  and  from  ArcolPs  instructions. 
This  stream  must  be  the  Little  Letaba  and  I  must  cross  it  if 
I  would  get  to  the  mountains.  I  remembered  that  Majinje's 
kraal  stood  on  its  right  bank,  and  higher  up  in  its  valley 
in  the  Berg  'Mpefu  lived.  At  all  costs  the  kraals  must  be 
avoided.  Once  across  it  I  must  make  for  the  Letsitela,  an- 
other tributary  of  the  Great  Letaba,  and  by  keeping  the  far 
bank  of  that  stream  I  should  cross  the  mountains  to  the  place 
on  the  plateau  of  the  Wood  Bush  which  Arcoll  had  told 
me  would  be  his  headquarters. 

It  is  easy  to  talk  about  crossing  a  river,  and  looking  to- 
day at  the  slender  streak  on  the  map  I  am  amazed  that  so 
small  a  thing  should  have  given  me  such  ugly  tremors.  Yet 
I  have  rarely  faced  a  job  I  liked  so  little.  The  stream  ran 
yellow  and  sluggish  under  the  clear  moon.  On  the  near 
side  a  thick  growth  of  bush  clothed  the  bank,  but  on  the 
far  side  I  made  out  a  swamp  with  tall  bulrushes.  The  dis- 
tance across  was  no  more  than  fifty  yards  but  I  would  have 
swum  a  mile  more  readily  in  deep  waters.    The  place  stank 


COLLAR  OF  PRESTER  JOHN  171 

of  crocodiles.  There  was  no  ripple  to  break  the  oily  flow 
except  where  a  derelict  branch  swayed  with  the  current. 
Something  in  the  stillness,  the  eerie  light  on  the  water,  and 
the  rotting  smell  of  the  swamp  made  that  stream  seem  un- 
hallowed and  deadly. 

I  sat  down  and  considered  the  matter.  Crocodiles  had 
always  terrified  me  more  than  any  created  thing,  and  to 
be  dragged  by  iron  jaws  to  death  in  that  hideous  stream 
seemed  to  me  the  most  awful  of  endings.  Yet  cross  it  I  must 
if  I  were  to  get  rid  of  my  human  enemies.  I  remembered 
a  story  of  an  escaped  prisoner  during  the  war  who  had  only 
the  Komati  River  between  him  and  safety.  But  he  dared 
not  enter  it,  and  was  recaptured  by  a  Boer  commando.  I 
was  determined  that  such  cowardice  would  not  be  laid  to 
my  charge.  If  I  was  to  die,  I  would  at  least  have  given  my- 
self every  chance  of  life.  So  I  braced  myself  as  best  I  could 
and  looked  for  a  place  to  enter. 

The  veld-craft  I  had  mastered  had  taught  me  a  few 
things.  One  was  that  wild  animals  drink  at  night  and  that 
they  have  regular  drinking  places.  I  thought  that  the  like- 
liest place  for  crocodiles  was  at  or  around  such  spots  and, 
therefore,  I  resolved  to  take  the  water  away  from  a  drinking- 
place.  I  went  up  the  bank,  noting  where  the  narrow  bush 
paths  emerged  on  the  waterside.  I  scared  away  several  little 
buck,  and  once  the  violent  commotion  in  the  bush  showed 
that  I  had  frightened  some  bigger  animal,  perhaps  a  harte- 
beest.  Still  following  the  bank  I  came  to  a  reach  where 
the  undergrowth  was  unbroken  and  the  water  looked  deeper. 

Suddenly — I  fear  I  must  use  this  adverb  often  for  all 
the  happenings  on  that  night  were  sudden — I  saw  a  biggish 


172  PRESTER  JOHN 

animal  break  through  the  reeds  on  the  far  side.  It  entered 
the  water  and,  whether  wading  or  swimming  I  could  not 
see,  came  out  a  little  distance.  Then  some  sense  must  have 
told  it  of  my  presence,  for  it  turned  and  with  a  grunt  made 
its  way  back. 

I  saw  that  it  was  a  big  wart-hog,  and  began  to  think.  Pigs, 
unlike  other  beasts,  drink  not  at  night  but  in  the  daytime. 
The  hog  had,  therefore,  not  come  to  drink  but  to  swim 
across.  Now,  I  argued,  he  would  choose  a  safe  place  for  the 
wart-hog,  hideous  though  he  is,  is  a  wise  beast.  What  was 
safe  for  him  would  therefore  in  all  likelihood  be  safe  for  me. 

With  this  hope  to  comfort  me  I  prepared  to  enter.  My 
first  care  was  the  jewels  so,  feeling  them  precarious  in  my 
shirt,  I  twined  the  collar  round  my  neck  and  clasped  it. 
The  snake-clasp  was  no  flimsy  device  of  modern  jewellery, 
and  I  had  no  fear  but  that  it  would  hold.  I  held  the  pistol 
between  my  teeth,  and  with  a  prayer  to  God  slipped  into 
the  muddy  waters. 

I  swam  in  the  wild  way  of  a  beginner  who  fears  cramp. 
The  current  was  light  and  the  water  moderately  warm,  but 
I  seemed  to  go  very  slowly  and  I  was  cold  with  apprehension. 
In  the  middle  it  suddenly  shallowed  and  my  breast  came 
against  a  mudshoal.  I  thought  it  was  a  crocodile,  and  in 
my  confusion  the  pistol  dropped  from  my  mouth  and  dis- 
appeared. 

I  waded  a  few  steps  and  then  plunged  into  deep  water 
again.  Almost  before  I  knew,  I  was  among  the  bulrushes, 
with  my  feet  in  the  slime  of  the  bank.  With  feverish  haste 
I  scrambled  through  the  reeds  and  up  through  roots  and 


COLLAR  OF  PRESTER  JOHN  173 

undergrowth  to  the  hard  soil.  I  was  across  but,  alas,  I  had 
lost  my  only  weapon. 

The  swim  and  the  anxiety  had  tired  me  considerably,  and 
though  it  meant  delay  I  did  not  dare  to  continue  with  the 
weight  of  waterlogged  clothes  to  impede  me.  I  found  a 
dry  sheltered  place  in  the  bush  and  stripped  to  the  skin.  I 
emptied  my  boots  and  wrung  out  my  shirt  and  breeches, 
while  the  Prester's  jewels  were  blazing  on  my  neck.  Here 
was  a  queer  counterpart  to  Laputa  in  the  cave! 

The  change  revived  me,  and  I  continued  my  way  in  bet- 
ter form.  So  far  there  had  been  no  sign  of  pursuit.  Before 
me  the  Letsitela  was  the  only  other  stream,  and  from  what 
I  remembered  of  its  character  near  the  Berg  I  thought  I 
should  have  little  trouble.  It  was  smaller  than  the  Klein 
Letaba,  and  a  rushing  torrent  where  shallows  must  be 
common. 

I  kept  running  till  I  felt  my  shirt  getting  dry  on  my  back. 
Then  I  restored  the  jewels  to  their  old  home  and  found 
their  cool  touch  on  my  breast  very  comforting.  The  country 
was  getting  more  broken  as  I  advanced.  Little  kopjes  with 
thickets  of  wild  bananas  took  the  place  of  the  dead  levels. 
Long  before  I  reached  the  Letsitela  I  saw  that  I  was  right 
in  my  guess.  It  ran,  a  brawling  mountain  stream,  in  a  narrow 
rift  in  the  bush.  I  crossed  it  almost  dryshod  on  the  boulders 
above  a  little  fall,  stopping  for  a  moment  to  drink  and  lave 
my  brow. 

After  that  the  country  changed  again.  The  wood  was 
now  getting  like  that  which  clothed  the  sides  of  the  Berg. 
There  were  tall  timber-trees — yellowwood,  sneezewood,  es- 
senwood,   stinkwood — and   the   ground  was   carpeted  with 


174  PRESTER  JOHN 

thick  grass  and  ferns.  The  sight  gave  me  my  first  earnest 
of  safety.  I  was  approaching  my  own  country.  Behind 
me  was  heathendom  and  the  black  fever  flats.  In  front  were 
the  cool  mountains  and  bright  streams,  and  the  guns  of  my 
own  folk. 

As  I  struggled  on — for  I  was  getting  very  footsore  and 
weary — I  became  aware  of  an  odd  sound  in  my  rear.  It 
was  as  if  something  were  following  me.  I  stopped  and 
listened  with  a  sudden  dread.  Could  Laputa's  trackers  have 
got  up  with  me  already?  But  the  sound  was  not  of  human 
feet.  It  was  as  if  some  heavy  animal  were  plunging  through 
the  undergrowth.  At  intervals  came  the  soft  pad  of  its 
feet  on  the  grass. 

It  must  be  the  hungry  lion  of  my  nightmare,  and  Hen- 
riques'  pistol  was  in  the  mud  of  the  Klein  Letaba!  The 
only  thing  was  a  tree,  and  I  had  sprung  for  one  and  scrambled 
wearily  into  the  first  branches  when  a  great  yellow  animal 
came  into  the  moonlight. 

Providence  had  done  kindly  in  robbing  me  of  my  pistol. 
The  next  minute  I  was  on  the  ground  with  Colin  leaping 
on  me  and  baying  with  joy.  I  hugged  that  blessed  hound 
and  buried  my  head  in  his  shaggy  neck,  sobbing  like  a  child. 
How  he  had  traced  me  I  can  never  tell.  The  secret  belongs 
only  to  the  Maker  of  good  and  faithful  dogs. 

With  him  by  my  side  I  was  a  new  man.  The  awesome 
loneliness  had  gone.  I  felt  as  if  he  were  a  message  from 
my  own  people  to  take  me  safely  home.  He  clearly  knew 
the  business  afoot,  for  he  padded  beside  me  with  never 
a  glance  to  right  or  left.     Another  time  he  would  have  been 


COLLAR  OF  PRESTER  JOHN  175 

snowking  in  every  thicket.  But  now  he  was  on  duty,  a 
serious,  conscientious  dog  with  no  eye  but  for  business. 

The  moon  went  down  and  the  starry  sky  was  now  our  only 
light.  The  thick  gloom  which  brooded  over  the  landscape 
indicated  that  the  night  was  far  gone.  I  thought  I  saw  a 
deeper  blackness  ahead  which  might  be  the  line  of  the 
Berg.  Then  came  that  period  of  utter  stillness  when  every 
bush  sound  is  hushed  and  the  world  seems  to  swoon.  I  felt 
almost  impious  hurrying  through  that  profound  silence, 
when  not  even  the  leaves  stirred  or  a  frog  croaked. 

Suddenly  as  we  came  over  a  rise  a  little  wind  blew  on 
the  back  of  my  head,  and  a  bitter  chill  came  into  the  air. 
I  knew  from  nights  spent  in  the  open  that  it  was  the  pre- 
cursor of  dawn.  Sure  enough,  as  I  glanced  back^  far  over  the 
plain  a  pale  glow  was  stealing  upwards  into  the  sky.  In 
a  few  minutes  the  pall  melted  into  an  airy  haze,  and  above 
me  I  saw  the  heavens  shot  with  tremors  of  blue  light.  Then 
the  foreground  began  to  clear,  and  there  before  me,  with 
their  heads  still  muffled  in  vapour,  were  the  mountains. 

Xenophon's  Ten  Thousand  did  not  hail  the  sea  more 
gladly  than  I  welcomed  those  frowning  ramparts  of  the 
Berg. 

Once  again  my  weariness  was  eased.  I  cried  to  Colin  and 
together  we  ran  down  into  the  wide,  shallow  trough  which 
lies  at  the  foot  of  the  hills.  As  the  sun  rose  above  the  hori- 
zon, the  black  masses  changed  to  emerald  and  rich  umber, 
and  the  fleecy  mists  of  the  summits  opened  and  revealed 
beyond  shining  spaces  of  green.  Some  lines  of  Shakespeare 
ran  in  my  head,  which  I  have  always  thought  the  most  beau- 
tiful of  all  poetry. 


176  PRESTER  JOHN 

"Night's  candles  are  burned  out,  and  jocund  day 
Walks  tiptoe  on  the  mistry  mountain  tops." 

Up  there  among  the  clouds  was  my  salvation.  Like  the 
Psalmist,  I  lifted  my  eyes  to  the  hills  from  whence  came 
my  aid. 

Hope  is  a  wonderful  restorative.  To  be  near  the  hills, 
to  smell  their  odours,  to  see  at  the  head  of  the  glens  the 
lines  of  the  plateau  where  were  white  men  and  civilization 
— all  gave  me  new  life  and  courage.  Colin  saw  my  mood, 
and  spared  a  moment  now  and  then  to  inspect  a  hole  or 
a  covert.  Down  in  the  shallow  trough  I  saw  the  links  of 
a  burn,  the  Machudi,  which  flows  down  the  glen  it  was 
my  purpose  to  ascend.  Away  to  the  north  in  the  direction 
of  Majinje's  were  patches  of  Kaffir  tillage,  and  I  thought  I 
discerned  the  smoke  fires.  Majinje's  womankind  would  be 
cooking  their  morning  meal.  To  the  south  ran  a  thick  patch 
of  forest,  but  I  saw  beyond  it  the  spur  of  the  mountain  over 
which  runs  the  highroad  to  Wesselsburg.  The  clear  air  of 
dawn  was  like  wine  in  my  blood.  I  was  not  free  but  I  was 
on  the  threshold  of  freedom.  If  I  could  only  reach  my 
friends  with  the  Prester's  collar  in  my  shirt,  I  would  have 
performed  a  feat  which  would  never  be  forgotten.  I  would 
have  made  history  by  my  glorious  folly.  Breakfastless  and 
footsore  I  was  yet  a  proud  man  as  I  crossed  the  hollow  to 
the  mouth  of  Machudi's  glen. 

My  chickens  had  been  counted  too  soon,  and  there  was 
to  be  no  hatching.  Colin  grew  uneasy  and  began  to  sniff 
upwind.  I  was  maybe  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  glen 
foot,  plodding  through  the  long  grass  of  the  hollow,  when 
the  behaviour  of  the  dog  made  me  stop  and  listen.     In  that 


COLLAR  OF  PRESTER  JOHN  177 

still  air  sounds  carry  far  and  I  seemed  to  hear  the  noise  of 
feet  brushing  through  cover.  The  noise  came  both  from 
north  and  south,  from  the  forest  and  from  the  lower  course 
of  the  Machudi. 

I  dropped  into  shelter  and,  running  with  bent  back,  got 
to  the  summit  of  a  little  bush-clad  knoll.  It  was  Colin  who 
first  caught  sight  of  my  pursuers.  He  was  staring  at  a  rift 
in  the  trees  and  suddenly  gave  a  short  bark.  I  looked  and 
saw  two  men,  running  hard,  cross  the  grass  and  dip  into  the 
bed  of  the  stream.  A  moment  later  I  had  a  glimpse  of 
figures  on  the  edge  of  the  forest,  moving  fast  to  the  mouth 
of  the  glen.  The  pursuit  had  not  followed  me;  it  had  waited 
to  cut  me  off.  Fool  that  I  was,  I  had  forgotten  the  wonders 
of  Kaffir  telegraphy.  It  had  been  easy  for  Laputa  to  send 
word  forty  miles  ahead  to  stop  any  white  man  who  tried 
to  cross  the  Berg. 

And  then  I  knew  that  I  was  very  weary. 


CHAPTER  XV 

MORNING -IN   THE    BERG 

I  WAS  perhaps  half  a  mile  the  nearer  to  the  glen,  and  was 
likely  to  get  there  first.  And  after  that?  I  could  see  the 
track  winding  by  the  waterside  and  then  crossing  a  hill- 
shoulder  which  diverted  the  stream.  It  was  a  road  a  man 
could  scarcely  ride,  and  a  tired  man  would  have  a  hard  job 
to  climb.  I  do  not  think  that  I  had  any  hope.  My  exhilara- 
tion had  died  as  suddenly  as  it  had  been  born.  I  saw  myself 
caught  and  carried  off  to  Laputa,  who  must  now  be  close  on 
the  rendezvous  at  Inanda's  Kraal.  I  had  no  weapon  to  make 
a  fight  for  it.  My  foemen  were  many  and  untired.  It  must 
be  only  a  matter  of  minutes  till  I  was  in  their  hands. 

More  in  a  dogged  fury  of  disappointment  than  with  any 
hope  of  escape  I  forced  my  sore  legs  up  the  glen.  Ten 
minutes  ago  I  had  been  exulting  in  the  glories  of  the  morn- 
ing, and  now  the  sun  was  not  less  bright  nor  the  colours 
less  fair,  but  the  heart  had  gone  out  of  the  spectator.  At 
first  I  managed  to  get  some  pac.e  out  of  myself,  partly  from 
fear  and  partly  from  anger.  But  I  soon  found  that  my  body 
had  been  tried  too  far.  I  could  plod  along,  but  to  save  my 
life  I  could  not  have  hurried.  Any  healthy  savage  could 
have  caught  me  in  a  hundred  yards. 

The  track,  I  remember,  was  overhung  with  creepers,  and 

often   I    had   to   squeeze   through   thickets   of   tree-ferns. 

178 


MORNING  IN  THE  BERG  179 

Countless  little  brooks  ran  down  from  the  hillside,  threads 
of  silver  among  the  green  pastures.  Soon  I  left  the  stream 
and  climbed  up  on  the  shoulder,  where  the  road  was  not 
much  better  than  a  precipice.  Every  step  was  a  weariness. 
I  could  hardly  drag  one  foot  after  the  other,  and  my  heart 
was  beating  like  the  fanners  of  a  mill.  I  had  spasms  of 
acute  sickness,  and  it  took  all  my  resolution  to  keep  me  from 
lying  down  by  the  roadside. 

At  last  I  was  at  the  top  of  the  shoulder  and  could  look 
back.  There  was  no  sign  of  anybody  on  the  road  so  far  as  I 
could  see.  Could  I  have  escaped  them?  I  had  been  in 
the  shadow  of  the  trees  for  the  first  part,  and  they  may  have 
lost  sight  of  me  and  concluded  that  I  had  avoided  the  glen 
or  tried  one  of  the  faces.  Before  me,  I  remember,  there 
stretched  the  upper  glen,  a  green  cup-shaped  hollow  with 
the  sides  scarred  by  ravines.  There  was  a  high  waterfall  in 
one  of  them  which  was  white  as  snow  against  the  red  rocks. 
My  wits  must  have  been  shaky,  for  I  took  the  fall  for  a 
snowdrift  and  wondered  foolishly  why  the  Berg  had  grown 
so  Alpine. 

A  faint  spasm  of  hope  took  me  into  that  green  cup.  The 
bracken  was  as  thick  as  on  the  Pentlands,  and  there  was  a 
multitude  of  small  lovely  flowers  in  the  grass.  It  was  like 
a  water  meadow  at  home,  such  a  place  as  I  had  often  in 
boyhood  searched  for  moss-cheepers'  and  corncrakes'  eggs. 
Birds  were  crying  round  me  as  I  broke  this  solitude,  and 
one  small  buck — a  klipspringer — rose  from  my  feet  and 
dashed  up  one  of  the  gullies.  Before  me  was  a  steep  green 
wall  with  the  sky  blue  above  it.     Beyond  it  was  safety,  but 


180  PRESTER  JOHN 

as  my  sweat-dimmed  eyes  looked  at  it  I  knew  that  I  could 
never  reach  it. 

Then  I  saw  my  pursuers.  High  up  on  the  left  side,  and 
rounding  the  rim  of  the  cup,  were  little  black  figures.  They 
had  not  followed  my  trail,  but  certain  of  my  purpose,  had 
gone  forward  to  intercept  me.  I  remember  feeling  a  puny 
weakling  compared  with  those  lusty  natives  who  could  make 
such  good  going  on  steep  mountains.  They  were  certainly 
no  men  of  the  plains,  but  hillmen,  probably  some  remnants 
of  old  Machudi's  tribe  who  still  squatted  in  the  glen. 
Machudi  was  a  blackguard  chief  whom  the  Boers  long  ago 
smashed  in  one  of  their  native  wars.  He  was  a  fierce  old 
warrior  and  had  put  up  a  good  fight  to  the  last,  till  a  hired 
impi  of  Swazis  had  surrounded  his  hiding  place  in  the  for- 
est and  destroyed  him.  A  Boer  farmer  on  the  plateau  had 
his  skull,  and  used  to  drink  whisky  out  of  it  when  he  was 
merry. 

The  sight  of  the  pursuit  was  the  last  straw.  I  gave  up 
hope  and  my  intentions  were  narrowed  to  one  frantic  desire 
— to  hide  the  jewels.  Patriotism,  which  I  had  almost  for- 
gotten, flickered  up  in  the  crisis.  At  any  rate  Laputa  should 
not  have  the  Snake.  If  he  drove  out  the  white  man,  he 
should  not  clasp  the  Prester's  rubies  on  his  great  neck. 

There  was  no  cover  in  that  green  cup,  so  I  turned  up 
the  ravine  on  the  right  side.  The  enemy,  so  far  as  I  could 
judge,  were  on  the  left  and  in  front,  and  in  the  gully  I 
might  find  a  pothole  to  bury  the  necklet  in.  Only  a  des- 
perate resolution  took  me  through  the  tangle  of  juniper 
bushes  into  the  red  screes  of  the  gully.  At  first  I  could  not 
find  what  I  sought.     The  stream  in  the  ravine  slid  down 


MORNING  IN  THE  BERG  181 

a  long  slope  like  a  mill  race,  and  the  sides  were  bare  and 
stony.  Still  I  plodded  on,  helping  myself  with  a  hand  on 
Colin's  back,  for  my  legs  were  numb  with  fatigue.  By  and 
by  the  gully  narrowed,  and  I  came  to  a  flat  place  with  a 
long  pool.  Beyond  was  a  little  fall,  and  up  this  I  climbed 
into  a  network  of  tiny  cascades.  Over  one  pool  hung  a 
dead  tree-fern,  and  a  bay  from  it  ran  into  a  hole  of  the  rock. 
I  slipped  the  jewels  far  into  the  hole,  where  they  lay  on  the 
firm  sand  showing  odd  lights  through  the  dim  blue  water. 
Then  I  scrambled  down  again  to  the  flat  space  and  the  pool, 
and  looked  round  to  see  if  any  one  had  reached  the  edge 
of  the  ravine.  There  was  no  sign  as  yet  of  the  pursuit,  so 
I  dropped  limply  on  the  shingle  and  waited.  For  I  had 
suddenly  conceived  a  plan. 

As  my  breath  came  back  to  me  my  wits  came  back  from 
their  wandering.  These  men  were  not  there  to  kill  me  but 
to  capture  me.  They  could  know  nothing  of  the  jewels, 
for  Laputa  would  never  have  dared  to  make  the  loss  of  the 
sacred  Snake  public.  Therefore  they  would  not  suspect 
what  I  had  done,  and  would  simply  lead  me  to  Laputa  at 
Inanda's  Kraal.  I  began  to  see  the  glimmerings  of  a  plan 
for  saving  my  life  and,  by  God's  grace,  for  saving  my  coun- 
try from  the  horrors  of  rebellion.  The  more  I  thought 
the  better  I  liked  it.  It  demanded  a  bold  front  and  it  might 
well  miscarry,  but  I  had  taken  such  desperate  hazards  dur- 
ing the  past  days  that  I  was  less  afraid  of  fortune.  Anyhow 
the  choice  lay  between  certain  death  and  a  slender  chance 
of  life,  and  it  was  easy  to  decide. 

Playing  football,  I  used  to  notice  how  towards  the  end 
of  a  game  I  might  be  sore  and  weary,  without  a  kick  in 


182  PRESTER  JOHN 

my  body;  but  when  I  had  a  straight  job  of  tackling  a  man 
my  strength  miraculously  returned.  It  was  even  so  now. 
I  lay  on  my  side  luxuriating  in  being  still,  and  slowly  a  sort 
of  vigour  crept  back  into  my  limbs.  Perhaps  a  half  hour 
of  rest  was  given  me  before,  on  the  lip  of  the  gully,  I  saw 
figures  appear.  Looking  down,  I  saw  several  men  who  had 
come  across  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  valley  scrambling 
up  the  stream.  I  got  to  my  feet,  with  Colin  bristling  be- 
side me,  and  awaited  them  with  the  stiffest  face  I  could 
muster. 

As  I  expected,  they  were  Machudi's  men.  I  recognised 
them  by  the  red  ochre  in  their  hair  and  their  copper  wire 
necklets.  Big  fellows  they  were,  long-legged  and  deep  in 
the  chest,  the  true  breed  of  mountaineers.  I  admired  their 
light  tread  on  the  slippery  rock.  It  was  hopeless  to  think 
of  evading  such  men  in  their  own  hills. 

The  men  from  the  side  joined  the  men  in  front,  and  they 
stood  looking  at  me  from  about  twelve  yards  off.  They 
were  armed  only  with  knobkerries,  and  very  clearly  were 
no  part  of  Laputa's  army.  This  made  their  errand  plain 
to  me. 

"Halt!"  I  said  in  Kaffir,  as  one  of  them  made  a  hesitat- 
ing step  to  advance.     "Who  are  you  and  what  do  you  seek? " 

There  was  no  answer  but  they  looked  at  me  curiously. 
Then  one  made  a  motion  with  his  stick.  Colin  gave  a  growl 
and  would  have  been  on  him  if  I  had  not  kept  a  hand  on 
his  collar.  The  rash  man  drew  back  and  all  stood  stiff  and 
perplexed. 

"Keep  your  hands  by  your  side,"  I  said,  "or  the  dog,  who 


MORNING  IN  THE  BERG  183 

has  a  devil,  will  devour  you.  One  of  you  speak  for  the 
rest  and  tell  me  your  purpose." 

For  a  moment  I  had  a  wild  notion  that  they  might  be 
friends,  some  of  ArcolPs  scouts,  and  out  to  help  me.  But- 
the  first  words  shattered  the  fancy. 

"We  are  sent  by  Inkulu,"  the  biggest  of  them  said.  "He 
bade  us  bring  you  to  him." 

"And  what  if  I  refuse  to  go?" 

"Then,  Baas,  we  must  take  you  to  him.  We  are  under 
the  vow  of  the  Snake." 

"Vow  of  fiddlestick!"  I  cried.  "Who  do  you  think  is 
the  bigger  chief,  the  Inkulu  or  Ratitswan?  I  tell  you 
Ratitswan  is  now  driving  Inkulu  before  him  as  a  wind  drives 
rotten  leaves.  It  will  be  well  for  you,  men  of  Machudi,  to 
make  peace  with  Ratitswan  and  take  me  to  him  on  the 
Berg.  If  you  bring  me  to  him,  I  and  he  will  reward  you 5 
but  if  you  do  Inkulu's  bidding  you  will  soon  be  hunted 
like  buck  out  of  your  hills." 

They  grinned  at  one  another,  but  I  could  see  that  my 
words  had  no  effect.    Laputa  had  done  his  business  too  well. 

The  spokesman  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  the  way  the 
Kaffirs  have. 

"We  wish  you  no  ill,  Baas,  but  we  have  been  bidden  to 
take  you  to  Inkulu.  We  cannot  disobey  the  commands  of 
the  Snake." 

My  weakness  was  coming  on  me  again  and  I  could  talk 
no  more.  I  sat  down  plump  on  the  ground,  almost  falling 
into  the  pool.  "Take  me  to  Inkulu,"  I  stammered  with  a 
dry  throat.  "I  do  not  fear  him,"  and  I  rolled  half-fainting 
on  my  back. 


184  PRESTER  JOHN 

These  clansmen  of  Machudi  were  decent  fellows.  One 
of  them  had  some  Kaffir  beer  in  a  calabash,  which  he  gave 
me  to  drink.  The  stuff  was  thin  and  sickly,  but  the  fermen- 
tation in  it  did  me  good.  I  had  the  sense  to  remember  my 
need  of  sleep.  "The  day  is  young,''  I  said,  "and  I  have 
come  far.     I  ask  to  be  allowed  to  sleep  for  an  hour." 

The  men  made  no  difficulty,  and  with  my  head  between 
Colin's  paws  I  slipped  into  dreamless  slumber. 

When  they  wakened  me  the  sun  was  beginning  to  climb 
the  sky.  I  judged  it  to  be  about  eight  o'clock.  They  had 
made  a  little  fire  and  roasted  mealies.  Some  of  the  food 
they  gave  me,  and  I  ate  it  thankfully.  I  was  feeling  better, 
and  I  think  a  pipe  would  have  almost  completed  my  cure. 

But  when  I  stood  up  I  found  that  I  was  worse  than  I 
had  thought.  The  truth  is,  I  was  leg-weary,  a  condition 
which  is  often  met  with  in  horses,  but  rarely  in  men.  What 
the  proper  explanation  is  I  do  not  know,  but  the  muscles 
simply  refuse  to  answer  the  direction  of  the  will.  I  found 
my  legs  sprawling  like  those  of  a  child  who  is  learning 
to  walk. 

"If  you  want  me  to  go  to  the  Inkulu,  you  must  carry  me," 
I  said,  as  I  dropped  once  more  on  the  ground. 

The  men  nodded  and  set  to  work  to  make  a  kind  of  litter 
out  of  their  knobkerries  and  some  old  ropes  they  carried. 
As  they  worked  and  chattered  I  looked  idly  at  the  left  bank 
of  the  ravine — that  is,  the  left  as  you  ascend  it.  Some  of 
Machudi's  men  had  come  down  there  and,  though  the  place 
looked  sheer  and  perilous,  I  saw  how  they  had  managed  it. 
I  followed  out  bit  by  bit  the  track  upwards,  not  with  any 
thought  of  escape  but  merely  to  keep  my  mind  under  con- 


MORNING  IN  THE  BERG  185 

trol.  The  right  road  was  from  the  foot  of  the  pool  up  a 
long  shelf  to  a  clump  of  juniper.  Then  there  was  an  easy 
chimney;  then  a  piece  of  good  hand-and-foot  climbing; 
and  last,  another  ledge  which  led  by  an  easy  gradient  to  the 
top.  I  figured  all  this  out  as  I  have  heard  a  condemned  man 
will  count  the  windows  of  the  houses  on  his  way  to  the 
scaffold. 

Presently  the  litter  was  ready  and  the  men  made  signs 
to  me  to  get  into  it.  They  carried  me  down  the  ravine  and 
up  the  Machudi  burn  to  the  green  walls  at  its  head.  I 
admired  their  bodily  fitness,  for  they  bore  me  up  those  steep 
slopes  with  never  a  halt,  zigzagging  in  the  proper  style  of 
mountain  transport.  In  less  than  an  hour  we  had  topped 
the  ridge  and  the  plateau  was  before  me. 

It  looked  very  homelike  and  gracious,  rolling  in  gentle 
undulations  to  the  western  horizon,  with  clumps  of  wood 
in  its  hollows.  Far  away  I  saw  smoke  rising  from  what 
should  be  the  village  of  the  Iron  Kranz.  It  was  the  country 
of  my  own  people,  and  it  behooved  my  captors  to  go  cau- 
tiously. They  were  old  hands  at  veld-craft,  and  it  was 
wonderful  the  way  in  which  they  kept  out  of  sight  even 
on  the  bare  ridges.  Arcoll  could  have  taught  them  nothing 
in  the  art  of  scouting.  At  an  incredible  pace  they  hurried 
me  along,  now  in  a  meadow  by  a  stream  side,  now  through 
a  patch  of  forest,  and  now  skirting  a  green  shoulder  of  hill. 

Once  they  clapped  down  suddenly,  and  crawled  into  the 
lee  of  some  thick  bracken.  Then  very  quietly  they  tied  my 
hands  and  feet  and,  not  ungently,  wound  a  dirty  length  of 
cotton  over  my  mouth.  Colin  was  meantime  held  tight 
and  muzzled  with  a  kind  of  bag  strapped  over  his  head.    To 


186  PRESTER  JOHN 

get  this  over  his  snapping  jaws  took  the  whole  strength  of 
the  party.  I  guessed  that  we  were  nearing  the  highroad 
which  runs  from  the  plateau  down  the  Great  Letaba  valley 
to  the  mining  township  of  Wesselsburg,  away  out  on  the 
plain.  The  police  patrols  must  be  out  on  this  road,  and 
there  was  risk  in  crossing.  Sure  enough,  I  seemed  to  catch 
a  jingle  of  bridles  as  if  from  some  company  of  men  riding 
in  haste. 

We  lay  still  for  a  little  till  the  scouts  came  back  and  re- 
ported the  coast  clear.  Then  we  made  a  dart  for  the  road, 
crossed  it,  and  got  into  cover  on  the  other  side,  where  the 
ground  sloped  down  to  the  Letaba  glen.  I  noticed  in  cross- 
ing that  the  dust  of  the  highway  was  thick  with  the  marks 
of  shod  horses.  I  was  very  near  and  yet  very  far  from  my 
own  people. 

Once  in  the  rocky  gorge  of  the  Letaba  we  advanced  with 
less  care.  We  scrambled  up  a  steep  side  gorge  and  came  on 
to  the  small  plateau  from  which  the  Cloud  Mountains  rise. 
After  that  I  was  so  tired  that  I  drowsed  away,  heedless  of 
the  bumping  of  the  litter.  We  went  up  and  up,  and  when 
I  next  opened  my  eyes  we  had  gone  through  a  pass  into  a 
hollow  of  the  hills.  There  was  a  flat  space  a  mile  or  two 
square,  and  all  round  it  stern  black  ramparts  of  rock.  This 
must  be  Inanda's  Kraal,  a  strong  place  if  ever  one  existed, 
for  a  few  men  could  defend  all  the  approaches.  Consider- 
ing that  I  had  warned  Arcoll  of  this  rendezvous,  I  marvelled 
that  no  attempt  had  been  made  to  hold  the  entrance.  The 
place  was  impregnable  unless  guns  were  brought  up  to  the 
heights.  I  remember  thinking  of  a  story  I  had  heard — 
how  in  the  war  Beyers  took  his  guns  into  the  Wolkberg  and 


MORNING  IN  THE  BERG  187 

thereby  saved  them  from  our  troops.    Could  Arcoll  be  medi- 
tating the  same  exploit? 

Suddenly  I  heard  the  sound  of  loud  voices  and  my  litter 
was  dropped  roughly  on  the  ground.  I  woke  to  clear  con- 
sciousness in  the  midst  of  pandemonium. 


CHAPTER    XVI 


The  vow  was  at  an  end.  In  place  of  the  silent  army  of 
yesterday  a  mob  of  maddened  savages  surged  around  me. 
They  were  chanting  a  wild  song  and  brandishing  spears  and 
rifles  to  its  accompaniment.  From  their  bloodshot  eyes 
stared  the  lust  of  blood,  the  fury  of  conquest,  and  all  the 
aboriginal  passions  on  which  Laputa  had  laid  his  spell.  In 
my  mind  ran  a  fragment  from  Laputa's  prayer  in  the  cave 
about  the  "Terrible  Ones."  Machudi's  men — stout  fellows, 
they  held  their  ground  as  long  as  they  could — were  swept 
out  of  the  way,  and  the  wave  of  black  savagery  seemed  to 
close  over  my  head. 

I  thought  my  last  moment  had  come.  Certainly  it  had 
but  for  Colin.  The  bag  had  been  taken  from  his  head, 
and  the  fellow  of  Machudi's  had  dropped  the  rope  round  his 
collar.  In  a  red  fury  of  wrath  the  dog  leaped  at  my  enemies. 
Though  every  man  of  them  was  fully  armed,  they  fell  back, 
for  I  have  noticed  always  that  Kaflirs  are  mortally  afraid 
of  a  white  man's  dog.  Colin  had  the  sense  to  keep  beside 
me.  Growling  like  a  thunderstorm  he  held  the  ring  around 
my  litter. 

The  breathing  space  would  not  have  lasted  long,  but  it 
gave  me  time  to  get  to  my  feet.  My  wrists  and  feet  had 
been  unbound  long  before  and  the  rest  had  cured  my  leg- 

I88 


INANDA'S  KRAAL  189 

weariness.     I  stood  up  in  that  fierce  circle  with  the  clear 
knowledge  that  my  life  hung  by  a  hair. 

"Take  me  to  Inkulu,''  I  cried.  "Dogs  and  fools,  would 
you  despise  his  orders?  If  one  hair  of  my  head  is  hurt,  he 
will  flay  you  alive.  Show  me  the  way  to  him,  and  clear 
out  of  it." 

I  daresay  there  was  a  break  in  my  voice  for  I  was  dis- 
mally frightened,  but  there  must  have  been  sufficient  au- 
thority to  get  me  a  hearing.  Machudi's  men  closed  up 
behind  me  and  repeated  my  words  with  flourishes  and  ges- 
tures. But  still  the  circle  held.  No  man  came  nearer  me, 
but  none  moved  so  as  to  give  me  passage. 

Then  I  screwed  up  my  courage  and  did  the  only  thing 
possible.  I  walked  straight  into  the  circle,  knowing  well  that 
I  was  running  no  light  risk.  My  courage,  as  I  have  already 
explained,  is  of  little  use  unless  I  am  doing  something.  I 
could  not  endure  another  minute  of  sitting  still  with  those 
fierce  eyes  on  me. 

The  circle  gave  way.  Sullenly  they  made  a  road  for 
me,  closing  up  behind  on  my  guards,  so  that  Machudi's 
men  were  swallowed  in  the  mob.  Alone  I  stalked  forward 
with  all  that  huge  yelling  crowd  behind  me. 

I  had  not  far  to  go.  Inanda's  Kraal  was  a  cluster  of 
kyas  and  rondavels,  shaped  in  a  half-moon,  with  a  flat  space 
between  the  houses,  where  grew  a  big  merula  tree.  All 
around  was  a  medley  of  little  fires,  with  men  squatted  be- 
side them.  Here  and  there  a  party  had  finished  their  meal 
and  were  swaggering  about  with  a  great  shouting.  The 
mob  into  which  I  had  fallen  was  of  this  sort  and  I  saw  others 
within  the  confines  of  the  camp.     But  around  the  merula 


190  PRESTER  JOHN 

tree  there  was  a  gathering  of  chiefs,  if  I  could  judge  by  the 
comparative  quiet  and  dignity  of  the  men,  who  sat  in  rows 
on  the  ground.  A  few  were  standing,  and  among  them  I 
caught  sight  of  Laputa's  tall  figure.  I  strode  towards  it, 
wondering  if  the  chiefs  would  let  me  pass. 

The  hubbub  of  my  volunteer  attendants  brought  the  eyes 
of  the  company  round  to  me.  In  a  second  it  seemed  every 
man  was  on  his  feet.  I  could  only  pray  that  Laputa  would 
get  to  me  before  his  friends  had  time  to  spear  me.  I  re- 
member I  fixed  my  eyes  on  a  spur  of  hill  beyond  the  kraal, 
and  walked  on  with  the  best  resolution  I  could  find.  Already 
I  felt  in  my  breast  some  of  the  long  thin  assegais  of  Um- 
booni's  men. 

But  Laputa  did  not  intend  that  I  should  be  butchered. 
A  word  from  him  brought  his  company  into  order,  and  the 
next  thing  I  knew  I  was  facing  him  where  he  stood  in  front 
of  the  biggest  kya  with  Henriques  beside  him,  and  some  of 
the  northern  indunas.  Henriques  looked  ghastly  in  the  clear 
morning  light  and  he  had  a  linen  rag  bound  round  his  head 
and  jaw,  as  if  he  suflFered  from  toothache.  His  face  was 
more  livid,  his  eyes  more  bloodshot,  and  at  the  sight  of 
me  his  hand  went  to  his  belt  and  his  teeth  snapped.  But 
he  held  his  peace  and  it  was  Laputa  who  spoke.  He  looked 
straight  through  me  and  addressed  Machudi's  men. 

"You  have  brought  back  the  prisoner.  That  is  well,  and 
your  service  will  be  remembered.  Go  to  'Mpefu's  camp 
on  the  hill  there  and  you  will  be  given  food." 

The  men  departed  and  with  them  fell  away  the  crowd 
which  had  followed  me.  I  was  left,  very  giddy  and  dazed, 
to  confront  Laputa  and  his  chiefs.     The  whole  scene  was 


INANDA'S  KRAAL  191 

swimming  before  my  eyes.  I  remember  there  was  a  cluck- 
ing of  hens  from  somewhere  behind  the  kraal,  which  called 
up  ridiculous  memories.  I  was  trying  to  remember  the  plan 
I  had  made  in  Machudi's  glen.  I  kept  saying  to  myself  like 
a  parrot:  "The  army  cannot  know  about  the  jewels.  Laputa 
must  keep  his  loss  secret.  I  can  get  my  life  from  him  if 
I  offer  to  give  them  back.''  It  had  sounded  a  good  scheme 
three  hours  before,  but  with  the  man's  hard  face  before  me, 
it  seemed  a  frail  peg  to  hang  my  fate  on. 

Laputa's  eye  fell  on  me,  a  clear  searching  eye  with  a 
question  in  it. 

There  was  something  he  was  trying  to  say  to  me  which 
he  dared  not  put  into  words.  I  guessed  what  the  something 
was,  for  I  saw  his  glance  run  over  my  shirt  and  my  empty 
pockets. 

"You  have  made  little  of  your  treachery,"  he  said.  "Fool, 
did  you  think  to  escape  me?  I  could  bring  you  back  from 
the  ends  of  the  earth." 

"There  was  no  treachery,"  I  replied.  "Do  you  blame 
a  prisoner  for  trying  to  escape?  When  shooting  began  I 
found  myself  free  and  I  took  the  road  for  home.  Ask 
Machudi's  men  and  they  will  tell  you  that  I  came  quietly 
with  them,  when  I  saw  that  the  game  was  up." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "It  matters  very  little  what 
you  did.  You  are  here  now. — Tie  him  up  and  put  him  in 
my  kya,"  he  said  to  the  bodyguard.  "I  have  something  to 
say  to  him  before  he  dies." 

As  the  men  laid  hands  on  me  I  saw  the  exultant  grin  on 
Henriques'  face.    It  was  more  than  I  could  endure. 

"Stop!"   I   said.      "You   talk  of  traitors,   Mr.   Laputa. 


192  PRESTER  JOHN 

There  is  the  biggest  and  blackest  at  your  elbow.  That  man 
sent  word  to  ArcoU  about  your  crossing  at  Dupree's  Drift. 
At  our  outspan  at  noon  yesterday  he  came  to  me  and  offered 
me  my  liberty  if  I  would  help  him.  He  told  me  he  was  a 
spy  and  I  flung  his  offer  in  his  face.  It  was  he  who  shot 
the  Keeper  by  the  river  side  and  would  have  stolen  the 
Snake  if  I  had  not  broken  his  head.  You  call  me  a  traitor 
and  you  let  that  thing  live,  though  he  has  killed  your  priest 
and  betrayed  your  plans.  Kill  me  if  you  like,  but  by  God 
let  him  die  first." 

I  do  not  know  how  the  others  took  the  revelation,  for  my 
eyes  were  only  for  the  Portugoose.  He  made  a  step  towards 
me,  his  hands  twitching  by  his  sides. 

"You  lie!"  he  screamed  in  that  queer  broken  voice  which 
much  fever  gives.  "It  was  this  English  hound  that  killed 
the  Keeper  and  felled  me  when  I  tried  to  save  him.  The 
man  who  insults  my  honour  is  dead."  And  he  plucked  from 
his  belt  a  pistol. 

A  good  shot  does  not  miss  at  two  yards.  I  was  never 
nearer  my  end  than  in  that  fraction  of  time  while  the 
weapon  came  up  to  the  aim.  It  was  scarcely  a  second  but 
it  was  enough  for  Colin.  The  dog  had  kept  my  side  and 
had  stood  docilely  by  me  while  Laputa  spoke.  The  truth 
is,  he  must  have  been  as  tired  as  I  was.  As  the  Kaffirs  ap- 
proached to  lay  hands  on  me  he  had  growled  menacingly 
but  when  I  spoke  again  he  had  stopped.  Henriques'  voice 
had  convinced  him  of  a  more  urgent  danger,  and  so  soon  as 
the  trigger  hand  of  the  Portugoose  rose  the  dog  sprang. 
The  bullet  went  wide  and  the  next  moment  dog  and  man 
were  struggling  on  the  ground. 


INANDA'S  KRAAL  193 

A  dozen  hands  held  me  from  going  to  Colin's  aid,  but 
oddly  enough  no  one  stepped  forward  to  help  Henriques. 
The  ruffian  kept  his  head  and  though  the  dog's  teeth  were 
in  his  shoulder,  he  managed  to  get  his  right  hand  free.  I 
saw  what  would  happen  and  yelled  madly  in  my  appre- 
hension. The  yellow  wrist  curved  and  the  pistol  barrel  was 
pressed  below  the  dog's  shoulder.  Thrice  he  fired,  the  grip 
relaxed,  and  Colin  rolled  over  limply,  fragments  of  shirt 
still  hanging  from  his  jaw.  The  Portugoose  rose  slowly  with 
his  hand  to  his  head  and  a  thin  stream  of  blood  dripping 
from  his  shoulder. 

As  I  saw  the  faithful  eyes  glazing  in  death  and  knew 
that  I  had  lost  the  best  of  all  comrades,  I  went  clean  berserk 
mad.  The  cluster  of  men  round  me,  who  had  been  staring 
open-eyed  at  the  fight,  were  swept  aside  like  reeds.  I 
went  straight  for  the  Portugoose,  determined  that,  pistol  or 
no  pistol,  I  would  serve  him  as  he  had  served  my  dog. 

For  my  years  I  was  a  well-set-up  lad,  long  in  the  arms 
and  deep  in  the  chest.  But  I  had  not  yet  come  to  my  full 
strength,  and  in  any  case  I  could  not  hope  to  fight  the  whole 
of  Laputa's  army.  I  was  flung  back  and  forwards  like  a 
shuttlecock.  They  played  some  kind  of  game  with  me  and 
I  could  hear  the  idiotic  Kaffir  laughter.  It  was  blindman's 
buflF,  so  far  as  I  was  concerned,  for  I  was  blind  with  fury. 
I  struck  out  wildly  left  and  right,  beating  the  air  often,  but 
sometimes  getting  a  solid  blow  on  hard  black  flesh.  I  was 
soundly  beaten  myself,  pricked  with  spears,  and  made  to 
caper  for  savage  sport.  Suddenly  I  saw  Laputa  before  me, 
and  hurled  myself  madly  at  his  chest.  Some  one  gave  me 
a  clout  on  the  head  and  my  senses  fled. 


194  PRESTER  JOHN 

When  I  came  to  myself,  I  was  lying  on  a  heap  of  mealie- 
stalks  in  a  dark  room.  I  had  a  desperate  headache  and  a 
horrid  nausea,  which  made  me  fall  back  as  soon  as  I  tried 
to  raise  myself. 

A  voice  came  out  of  the  darkness  as  I  stirred — a  voice 
speaking  English. 

"Are  you  awake,  Mr.  Storekeeper?" 

The  voice  was  Laputa's  but  I  could  not  see  him.  The 
room  was  pitch  dark,  except  for  a  long  ray  of  sunlight  on 
the  floor. 

"Pm  awake,"  I  said.      "What  do  you  want  with  me? " 

Some  one  stepped  out  of  the  gloom  and  sat  down  near  me. 
A  naked  black  foot  broke  the  belt  of  light  on  the  floor. 

"For  God's  sake  get  me  a  drink,"  I  murmured. 

The  figure  rose  and  fetched  a  pannikin  of  water  from 
a  pail.  I  could  hear  the  cool  trickle  of  the  drops  on  the 
metal.  A  hand  put  the  dish  to  my  mouth  and  I  drank  water 
with  a  strong  dash  of  spirits.  This  brought  back  my  nausea 
and  I  collapsed  on  the  mealie-stalks  till  the  fit  passed. 

Again  the  voice  spoke,  this  time  from  close  at  hand. 

"You  are  paying  the  penalty  of  being  a  fool,  Mr.  Store- 
keeper. You  are  young  to  die,  but  folly  is  common  in  youth. 
In  an  hour  you  will  regret  that  you  did  not  listen  to  my 
advice  at  Umvelos'." 

I  clawed  at  my  wits  and  strove  to  realise  what  he  was 
saying.  He  spoke  of  death  within  an  hour.  If  it  only  came 
sharp  and  sudden,  I  did  not  mind  greatly.  The  plan  I  had 
made  had  slipped  utterly  out  of  my  mind.  My  body  was 
so  wretched  that  I  asked  only  for  rest.  I  was  very  light- 
headed and  foolish  at  that  moment. 


INANDA^S  KRAAL  195 

"Kill  me  if  you  like,"  I  whispered.  "Some  day  you  will 
pay  dearly  for  it  all.  But  for  God's  sake  go  away  and  leave 
me  alone." 

Laputa  laughed.     It  was  a  horrid  sound  in  the  darkness. 

"You  are  brave,  Mr.  Storekeeper,  but  I  have  seen  a  brave 
man's  courage  ebb  very  fast  when  he  saw  the  death  which 
I  have  arranged  for  you.  Would  you  like  to  hear  something 
of  it  by  way  of  preparation? " 

In  a  low  gentle  voice  he  began  to  tell  me  mysteries  of 
awful  cruelty.  At  first  I  scarcely  heard  him  but  as  he  went 
on  my  brain  seemed  to  wake  from  its  lethargy.  I  listened 
with  freezing  blood.  Not  in  my  mildest  nightmares  had  I 
imagined  such  a  fate.  Then  in  spite  of  myself  a  cry  broke 
from  me. 

"It  interests  you?"  Laputa  asked.  "I  could  tell  you 
more  but  something  must  be  left  to  the  fancy.  Yours  should 
be  an  active  one,"  and  his  hand  gripped  my  shaking  wrist  and 
felt  my  pulse. 

"Henriques  will  see  that  the  truth  does  not  fall  short  of 
my  forecast,"  he  went  on.  "For  I  have  appointed  Henriques 
your  executioner." 

The  name  brought  my  senses  back  to  me. 

"Kill  me,"  I  said,  "but  for  God's  sake  kill  Henriques  too. 
If  you  did  justice  you  would  let  me  go  and  roast  the  Portu- 
goose  alive.  But  for  me  the  Snake  would  be  over  the  Le- 
bombo  by  this  time  in  Henriques'  pocket." 

"But  it  is  not,  my  friend.  It  was  stolen  by  a  storekeeper 
who  will  shortly  be  wishing  he  had  died  in  his  mother's 
womb." 

My  plan  was  slowly  coming  back  to  me. 


196  PRESTER  JOHN 

"If  you  value  Prester  John's  collar,  you  will  save  my  life. 
What  will  your  rising  be  without  the  Snake?  Would  they 
follow  you  a  yard  if  they  suspected  you  had  lost  it?" 

"So  you  would  threaten  me,"  Laputa  said  very  gently. 
Then  in  a  burst  of  wrath  he  shouted,  "They  will  follow 
me  to  hell  for  my  own  sake.  Imbecile,  do  you  think  my 
power  is  built  on  a  trinket?  When  you  are  in  your  grave, 
I  will  be  ruling  a  hundred  millions  from  the  proudest  throne 
on  earth." 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  pulled  back  a  shutter  of  the 
window,  letting  a  flood  of  light  into  the  hut.  In  that  light 
I  saw  that  he  had  in  his  hands  the  ivory  box  which  had  con- 
tained the  collar. 

"I  will  carry  the  casket  through  the  wars,"  he  cried, 
"and  if  I  choose  never  to  open  it,  who  will  gainsay  me?  You 
besotted  fool,  to  think  that  any  theft  of  yours  could  hinder 
my  destiny!" 

He  was  the  blustering  savage  again,  and  I  preferred  him 
in  the  part.  All  that  he  said  might  be  true,  but  I  thought 
I  could  detect  in  his  voice  a  keen  regret  and  in  his  air  a 
touch  of  disquiet.  The  man  was  a  fanatic,  and  like  all 
fanatics  had  his  superstitions. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "but  when  you  mount  the  throne  you  speak 
of,  it  would  be  a  pity  not  to  have  the  rubies  on  your  neck 
after  all  your  talk  in  the  cave." 

I  thought  he  would  have  throttled  me.  He  glowered 
down  at  me  with  murder  in  his  eyes.  Then  he  dashed  the 
casket  on  the  floor  with  such  violence  that  it  broke  into 
fragments. 


INANDA'S  KRAAL  197 

"Give  me  back  the  Ndhlondhlo,"  he  cried,  like  a  petted 
child.     "Give  me  back  the  collar  of  John." 

This  was  the  moment  I  had  been  waiting  for. 

"Now  see  here,  Mr.  Laputa,"  I  said.  "I  am  going  to 
talk  business.  Before  you  started  this  rising  you  were  a 
civilised  man  with  a  good  education.  Well,  just  remember 
that  education  for  a  minute,  and  look  at  the  matter  in  a 
sensible  light.  Pm  not  like  the  Portugoose.  I  don't  want 
to  steal  your  rubies.  I  swear  to  God  that  what  I  have  told 
you  is  true.  Henriques  killed  the  priest  and  would  have 
bagged  the  jewels  if  I  had  not  laid  him  out.  I  ran  away 
because  I  was  going  to  be  killed  today  and  I  took  the  collar 
to  keep  it  out  of  Henriques'  hands.  I  tell  you  I  would  never 
have  shot  the  old  man  myself.  Very  well,  what  happened? 
Your  men  overtook  me  and  I  had  no  choice  but  to  surrender. 
Before  they  reached  me,  I  hid  the  collar  in  a  place  I  know 
of.  Now,  I  am  going  to  make  you  a  fair  and  square  business 
proposition.  You  may  be  able  to  get  on  without  the  Snake 
but  I  can  see  you  want  it  back.  I  am  in  a  tight  place  and 
want  nothing  so  much  as  my  life.  I  offer  to  trade  with  you. 
Give  me  my  life  and  I  will  take  you  to  the  place  and  put  the 
jewels  in  your  hand.  Otherwise  you  may  kill  me  but  you 
will  never  see  the  collar  of  John  again." 

I  still  think  that  was  a  pretty  bold  speech  for  a  man  to 
make  in  a  predicament  like  mine.  But  it  had  its  effect. 
Laputa  ceased  to  be  the  barbarian  king,  and  talked  like  a 
civilised  man. 

"That  is,  as  you  call  it,  a  business  proposition.  But  sup- 
posing I  refuse  it?  Supposing  I  take  measures  here — in 
this  kraal — to  make  you  speak  and  then  send  for  the  jewels." 


198  PRESTER  JOHN 

"There  are  several  objections,"  I  said,  quite  cheerfully, 
for  I  felt  that  I  was  gaining  ground.  "One  is  that  I  could 
not  explain  to  any  mortal  soul  how  to  find  the  collar.  I 
know  where  it  is  but  I  could  not  impart  the  knowledge. 
Another  is  that  the  country  between  here  and  Machudi's 
is  not  very  healthy  for  your  people.  ArcoU's  men  are  all 
over  it  and  you  cannot  have  a  collection  of  search  parties 
rummaging  about  in  the  glen  for  long.  Last  and  most 
important,  if  you  send  any  one  for  the  jewels,  you  confess 
their  loss.  No,  Mr.  Laputa,  if  you  want  them  back,  you 
must  go  yourself  and  take  me  with  you." 

He  stood  silent  for  a  little,  with  his  brows  knit  in  thought. 
Then  he  opened  the  door  and  went  out.  I  guessed  that  he 
had  gone  to  discover  from  his  scouts  the  state  of  the  country 
between  Inanda's  Kraal  and  Machudi's  glen.  Hope  had 
come  back  to  me  and  I  sat  among  the  mealie-stalks  trying  to 
plan  the  future.  If  he  made  a  bargain,  I  believed  he  would 
keep  it.  Once  set  free  at  the  head  of  Machudi's,  I  should 
be  within  an  hour  or  two  of  ArcolPs  posts.  So  far,  I  had 
done  nothing  for  the  cause.  My  message  had  been  made 
useless  by  Henriques'  treachery  and  I  had  stolen  the  Snake 
only  to  restore  it.  But  if  I  got  off  with  my  life,  there  would 
be  work  for  me  to  do  in  the  Armageddon  which  I  saw  ap- 
proaching. Should  I  escape,  I  wondered.  What  would 
hinder  Laputa  from  setting  his  men  to  follow  me,  and  seize 
me  before  I  could  get  into  safety?  My  only  chance  was  that 
Arcoll  might  have  been  busy  this  day  and  th«  countryside 
too  full  of  his  men  to  let  Laputa's  Kafiirs  through.  But  if 
this  was  so,  Laputa  and  I  should  be  stopped,  and  then  Laputa 
would  certainly  kill  me.     I  wished — and  yet  I  did  not  wish 


INANDA'S  KRAAL  199 

— that  Arcoll  should  hold  all  approaches.  As  I  reflected, 
my  first  exhilaration  died  away.  The  scales  were  still  heavily 
weighted  against  me. 

Laputa  returned,  closing  the  door  behind  him. 

"I  will  bargain  with  you  on  my  own  terms.  You  shall 
have  your  life,  and  in  return  you  will  take  me  to  the  place 
where  you  hid  the  collar  and  put  it  into  my  hands.  I  will 
ride  there  and  you  will  run  beside  me,  tied  to  my  saddle. 
If  we  are  in  danger  from  the  white  men,  I  will  shoot  you 
dead.    Do  you  accept? " 

"Yes,"  I  said,  scrambling  to  my  feet  and  ruefully  testing 
my  shaky  legs.  "But  if  you  want  me  to  get  to  Machudi's 
you  must  go  slowly,  for  I  am  nearly  foundered." 

Then  he  brought  out  a  Bible  and  made  me  swear  on  it  that 
I  would  do  as  I  promised. 

"Swear  to  me  in  turn,"  I  said,  "that  you  will  give  me  my 
life  if  I  restore  the  jewels." 

He  swore,  kissing  the  book  like  a  witness  in  a  police  court. 
I  had  forgotten  that  the  man  called  himself  a  Christian. 

"One  thing  more  I  ask,"  I  said.  "I  want  my  dog  decently 
buried." 

"That  has  been  already  done,"  was  the  reply.  "He  was 
a  brave  animal  and  my  people  honour  bravery." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A  DEAL  AND   ITS   CONSEQUENCES 

My  eyes  were  bandaged  tight  and  a  thong  was  run  round  my 
right  wrist  and  tied  to  Laputa's  saddle-bow.  I  felt  the  glare 
of  the  afternoon  sun  and  my  head  and  my  shins  were  contin- 
ually barked  by  stones  and  trees  j  but  these  were  my  only  tid- 
ings of  the  outer  world.  By  the  sound  of  his  paces  Laputa 
was  riding  the  schimmel,  and  if  any  one  thinks  it  easy  to  go 
blindfolded  by  a  horse's  side  I  hope  he  will  soon  have  the 
experience.  In  the  darkness  I  could  not  tell  the  speed  of 
the  beast.  When  I  ran  I  overshot  it  and  was  tugged  back; 
when  I  walked  my  wrist  was  dislocated  with  the  tugs  for- 
ward. 

For  an  hour  or  more  I  suffered  this  breakneck  treatment. 
We  were  descending.  Often  I  could  hear  the  noise  of  fall- 
ing streams  and  once  we  splashed  through  a  mountain  ford. 
Laputa  was  taking  no  risks,  for  he  clearly  had  in  mind  the 
possibility  of  some  accident  which  would  set  me  free  and 
he  had  no  desire  to  have  me  guiding  Arcoll  to  his  camp. 

But  as  I  stumbled  and  sprawled  down  these  rocky  tracks 
I  was  not  thinking  of  Laputa's  plans.  My  whole  soul  was 
filled  with  regret  for  Colin  and  rage  against  his  murderer. 
After  my  first  mad  rush  I  had  not  thought  about  my  dog. 
He  was  dead,  but  so  would  I  be  in  an  hour  or  two,  and  there 
was  no  cause  to  lament  him.     But  at  the  first  revival  of 


-im 


MY  l.\i.o  WKKK  BANDAGED  TIGHT  AAD  A  TUONG  WAS  UL-N    AIHHM 
MY  RIGHT  WRIST  AND  TIED  TO  LAPUTA's  SADDDE-BOW. 


A  DEAL  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES       201 

hope  my  grief  had  returned.  As  they  bandaged  my  eyes  I 
was  wishing  that  they  would  let  me  see  his  grave.  As  I 
followed  beside  Laputa  I  told  myself  that  if  ever  I  got  free, 
when  the  war  was  over  I  would  go  to  Inanda's  Kraal,  find 
the  grave,  and  put  a  tombstone  over  it  in  memory  of  the 
dog  that  saved  my  life.  I  would  also  write  that  the  man 
who  shot  him  was  killed  on  such  and  such  a  day  at  such  and 
such  a  place  by  Colin's  master.  I  wondered  why  Laputa  had 
not  the  wits  to  see  the  Portugoose's  treachery  and  to  let  me 
fight  him.  I  did  not  care  what  were  the  weapons — knives 
or  guns  or  naked  fists — I  would  certainly  kill  him,  and  after- 
wards the  Kaffirs  could  do  as  they  pleased  with  me.  Hot 
tears  of  rage  and  weakness  wet  the  bandage  on  my  eyes,  and 
the  sobs  which  came  from  me  were  not  only  those  of 
weariness. 

At  last  we  halted.  Laputa  got  down  and  took  off  the 
bandage,  and  I  found  myself  in  one  of  the  hill-meadows 
which  lie  among  the  foothills  of  the  Wolkberg.  The  glare 
blinded  me,  and  for  a  little  I  could  only  see  the  marigolds 
growing  at  my  feet.  Then  I  had  a  glimpse  of  the  deep 
gorge  of  the  Great  Letaba  below  me,  and  far  to  the  east  the 
flats  running  out  to  the  hazy  blue  line  of  the  Lebombo  hills. 
Laputa  let  me  sit  on  the  ground  for  a  minute  or  two  to  get 
my  breath  and  rest  my  feet.  "That  was  a  rough  road," 
he  said.  "You  can  take  it  easier  now,  for  I  have  no  wish 
to  carry  you."  He  patted  the  schimmel  and  the  beautiful 
creature  turned  his  mild  eyes  on  the  pair  of  us.  I  wondered 
if  he  recognised  his  rider  of  two  nights  ago. 

I  had  seen  Laputa  as  the  Christian  minister,  as  the  priest 
and  king  in  the  cave,  as  the  leader  of  an  army  at  Dupree's 


202  PRESTER  JOHN 

Drift  and,  at  the  kraal  we  had  left,  as  the  savage  with  all 
self-control  flung  to  the  winds.  I  was  to  see  this  amazing 
man  in  a  further  part.  For  he  now  became  a  friendly  and 
rational  companion.  He  kept  his  horse  at  an  easy  walk  and 
talked  to  me  as  if  we  were  two  friends  out  for  a  trip  together. 
Perhaps  he  had  talked  thus  to  Arcoll,  the  half-caste  who 
drove  his  Cape-cart. 

The  wooded  bluff  above  Machudi's  glen  showed  far  in 
front.  He  told  me  the  story  of  the  Machudi  war,  which 
I  knew  already,  but  he  told  it  as  a  saga.  There  had  been  a 
stratagem  by  which  one  of  the  Boer  leaders — a  Grobelaar, 
I  think — got  some  of  his  men  into  the  enemy's  camp  by 
hiding  them  in  a  captured  forage  wagon. 

"Like  the  Trojan  horse,"  I  said  involuntarily. 

"Yes,"  said  my  companion,  "the  same  old  device,"  and 
to  my  amazement  he  quoted  some  lines  of  Virgil. 

"Do  you  understand  Latin?"  he  asked. 

I  told  him  that  I  had  some  slight  knowledge  of  the  tongue, 
acquired  at  the  university  of  Edinburgh.  Laputa  nodded. 
He  mentioned  the  name  of  a  professor  and  commented  on 
his  scholarship. 

"O  man!"  I  cried,  "what  in  God's  name  are  you  doing 
in  this  business?  You  that  are  educated  and  have  seen  the 
world,  what  makes  you  try  to  put  the  clock  back?  You 
want  to  wipe  out  the  civilisation  of  a  thousand  years  and 
turn  us  all  into  savages.  It's  the  more  shame  to  you  when 
you  know  better." 

"You  misunderstand  me,"  he  said  quietly.  "It  is  because 
I  have  sucked  civilisation  dry  that  I  know  the  bitterness 
of  the  fruit.     I  want  a  simpler  and  better  world  and  I  want 


A  DEAL  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES       203 

that  world  for  my  own  people.  I  am  a  Christian,  and  will 
you  tell  me  that  your  civilisation  pays  much  attention  to 
Christ?  You  call  yourself  a  patriot?  Will  you  not  give 
me  leave  to  be  a  patriot  in  turn? " 

"If  you  are  a  Christian,  what  sort  of  Christianity  is  it 
to  deluge  the  land  with  blood?" 

"The  best,"  he  said.  "The  house  must  be  swept  and  gar- 
nished before  the  man  of  the  house  can  dwell  in  it.  You 
have  read  history.  Such  a  purging  has  descended  on  the 
Church  at  many  times,  and  the  world  has  awakened  to  a 
new  hope.  It  is  the  same  in  all  religions.  The  temples 
grow  tawdry  and  foul  and  must  be  cleansed  and,  let  me 
remind  you,  the  cleanser  has  always  come  out  of  the  desert." 

I  had  no  answer,  being  too  weak  and  forlorn  to  think. 
But  I  fastened  on  his  patriotic  plea. 

"Where  are  the  patriots  in  your  following?  They  are  all 
red  Kaffirs  crying  for  blood  and  plunder.  Supposing  you 
were  Oliver  Cromwell,  you  could  make  nothing  out  of  such 
a  crew." 

"They  are  my  people,"  he  said  simply. 

By  this  time  we  had  forded  the  Great  Letaba,  and  were 
making  our  way  through  the  clumps  of  forest  to  the  crown 
of  the  plateau.  I  noticed  that  Laputa  kept  well  in  cover, 
preferring  the  tangle  of  wooded  undergrowth  to  the  open 
spaces  of  the  water-meadows.  As  he  talked,  his  wary  eyes 
were  keeping  a  sharp  lookout  over  the  landscape.  I  thrilled 
with  the  thought  that  my  own  folk  were  near  at  hand. 

Once  Laputa  checked  me  with  his  hand  as  I  was  going  to 
speak,  and  in  silence  we  crossed  the  kloof  of  a  little  stream. 


204  PRESTER  JOHN 

After  that  we  struck  a  long  strip  of  forest  and  he  slackened 
his  watch. 

"If  you  fight  for  a  great  cause,"  I  said,  "why  do  you  let 
a  miscreant  like  Henriques  have  a  hand  in  it?  You  must 
know  that  the  man's  only  interest  in  you  is  the  chance  of 
loot.  I  am  for  you  against  Henriques,  and  I  tell  you  plain 
that  if  you  don't  break  the  snake's  back  it  will  sting  you." 

Laputa  looked  at  me  with  an  odd,  meditative  look. 

"You  misunderstand  again,  Mr.  Storekeeper.  The  Por- 
tuguese is  what  you  call  a  'mean  white.'  His  only  safety 
is  among  us.  I  am  campaigner  enough  to  know  that  an 
enemy  who  has  a  burning  grievance  against  my  other  enemies 
is  a  good  ally.  You  are  too  hard  on  Henriques.  You  and 
your  friends  have  treated  him  as  a  Kaffir,  and  a  Kaffir  he 
is  in  everything  but  Kaffir  virtues.  What  makes  you  so 
anxious  that  Henriques  should  not  betray  me?" 

"I'm  not  a  mean  white,"  I  said,  "and  I  will  speak  the 
truth.  I  hope,  in  God's  name,  to  see  you  smashed  j  but  I 
want  it  done  by  honest  men  and  not  by  a  yellow  devil  who 
has  murdered  my  dog  and  my  friends.  Sooner  or  later  you 
will  find  him  outj  and  if  he  escapes  you  and  there's  any 
justice  in  heaven,  he  won't  escape  me." 

"Brave  words,"  said  Laputa  with  a  laugh,  and  then  in  one 
second  he  became  rigid  in  the  saddle.  We  had  crossed  a 
patch  of  meadow  and  entered  a  wood,  beyond  which  ran 
the  highway.  I  fancy  he  was  out  in  his  reckoning  and  did 
not  think  the  road  so  near.  At  any  rate,  after  a  moment 
he  caught  the  sound  of  horses,  and  I  caught  it  too.  The  wood 
was  thin  and  there  was  no  room  for  retreat,  while  to  recross 
the  meadow  would  bring  us  clean  into  the  open.    He  jumped 


A  DEAL  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES       205 

from  his  horse,  untied  with  amazing  quickness  the  rope 
halter  from  its  neck,  and  started  to  gag  me  by  winding  the 
thing  round  my  jaw. 

I  had  no  time  to  protest  that  I  would  keep  faith,  and  my 
right  hand  was  tethered  to  his  pommel.  In  the  grip  of  these 
great  arms  I  was  helpless,  and  in  a  trice  was  standing  dumb 
as  a  lamp-post;  while  Laputa,  his  left  arm  round  both  of 
mine,  and  his  right  hand  over  the  schimmeVs  eyes,  strained 
his  ears  like  a  sable  antelope  who  has  scented  danger. 

There  was  never  a  more  brutal  gagging.  The  rope 
crushed  my  nose  and  drove  my  lips  down  on  my  teeth  besides 
gripping  my  throat  so  that  I  could  scarcely  breathe.  The 
pain  was  so  great  that  I  became  sick  and  would  have  fallen 
but  for  Laputa.  Happily  I  managed  to  get  my  teeth  apart, 
so  that  one  coil  slipped  between,  and  eased  the  pain  of  the 
jaws.  But  the  rest  was  bad  enough  to  make  me  bite  fran- 
tically on  the  tow,  and  I  think  in  a  little  my  sharp  front  teeth 
would  have  severed  it.  All  this  discomfort  prevented  me 
seeing  what  happened.  The  wood,  as  I  have  said,  was  thin, 
and  through  the  screen  of  leaves  I  had  confused  impression 
of  men  and  horses  passing  interminably.  There  can  only 
have  been  a  score  at  the  most;  but  the  moments  drag  if  a 
cord  is  gripping  your  throat.  When  Laputa  at  length  untied 
me,  I  had  another  fit  of  nausea  and  leaned  helplessly  against 
a  tree. 

Laputa  listened  till  the  sound  of  the  horses  had  died  awayj 
then  silently  we  stole  to  the  edge  of  the  road,  across,  and 
into  the  thicker  evergreen  bush  on  the  far  side.  At  a  pace 
which  forced  me  to  run  hard,  we  climbed  a  steepish  slope 
till  ahead  of  us  we  saw  the  bald  green  crown  of  the  meadow- 


206  PRESTER  JOHN 

land.  I  noticed  that  his  face  had  grown  dark  and  sullen 
again.  He  was  in  an  enemy's  country  and  had  the  air  of 
the  hunted  instead  of  the  hunter.  When  I  stopped  he 
glowered  at  me  and  once,  when  I  was  all  but  overcome  with 
fatigue,  he  lifted  his  hand  in  a  threat.  Had  he  carried  a 
sjambok,  it  would  have  fallen  on  my  back. 

If  he  was  nervous,  so  was  I.  The  fact  that  I  was  out  of 
the  Kaffir  country  and  in  the  land  of  my  own  folk  was  a 
kind  of  qualified  liberty.  At  any  moment,  I  felt.  Providence 
might  intervene  to  set  me  free.  It  was  in  the  bond  that 
Laputa  should  shoot  me  if  we  were  attacked  j  but  a  pistol 
might  miss.  As  far  as  my  shaken  wits  would  let  me,  I  be- 
gan to  forecast  the  future.  Once  he  got  the  jewels  my  side 
of  the  bargain  was  complete.  He  had  promised  me  my 
life,  but  there  had  been  nothing  said  about  my  liberty  j  and 
I  felt  assured  that  Laputa  would  never  allow  one  who  had 
seen  so  much  to  get  off  to  Arcoll  with  his  tidings.  But  back 
to  that  unhallowed  kraal  I  was  resolved  I  would  not  go.  He 
was  armed  and  I  was  helpless;  he  was  strong  and  I  was  dizzy 
with  weakness  j  he  was  mounted  and  I  was  on  foot:  it  seemed 
a  poor  hope  that  I  should  get  away.  There  was  little  chance 
from  a  wandering  patrol,  for  I  knew  if  we  were  followed 
I  should  have  a  bullet  in  my  head  while  Laputa  got  off  on 
the  schimmel.  I  must  wait  and  bide  events.  At  the  worst, 
a  clean  shot  on  the  hillside  in  a  race  for  life  was  better  than 
the  unknown  mysteries  of  the  kraal.  I  prayed  earnestly  to 
God  to  show  me  His  mercy,  for  if  ever  man  was  sore  bestead 
by  the  heathen  it  was  I. 

To  my  surprise,  Laputa  chose  to  show  himself  on  the 
green  hill-shoulder.     He  looked  towards  the  Wolkberg  and 


A  DEAL  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES       207 

raised  his  hands.  It  must  have  been  some  signal.  I  cast  my 
eyes  back  on  the  road  we  had  come  and  I  thought  I  saw 
some  figures  a  mile  back,  on  the  edge  of  the  Letaba  gorge. 
Laputa  was  making  sure  of  my  return. 

By  this  time  it  was  about  four  in  the  afternoon,  and  as 
heavenly  weather  as  the  heart  of  man  could  wish.  The 
meadows  were  full  of  aromatic  herbs  which,  as  we  crushed 
them,  sent  up  a  delicate  odour.  The  little  pools  and  shallows 
of  the  burns  were  as  clear  as  a  Lothian  trout  stream.  We 
were  now  going  at  a  good  pace,  and  I  found  that  my  earlier 
weariness  was  growing  less.  I  was  being  keyed  up  for 
some  great  crisis,  for  in  my  case  the  spirit  acted  direct  on 
the  body,  and  fatigue  grew  and  ebbed  with  hope.  I  knew 
that  my  strength  was  not  far  from  breaking  point  j  but  I 
knew  also  that  so  long  as  a  chance  was  left  me  I  should  have 
enough  for  a  stroke. 

Before  I  realised  where  we  were  we  had  rounded  the 
hill  and  were  looking  down  on  the  green  cup  of  the  upper 
Machudi's  glen.  Far  down,  I  remembered,  where  the  trees 
began,  there  was  a  cloud  of  smoke.  Some  Kaffir — or  maybe 
Arcoll — had  fired  the  forest.  The  smoke  was  drifting  away 
under  a  light  west  wind  over  the  far  plains,  so  that  they 
were  seen  through  a  haze  of  opal. 

Laputa  bade  me  take  the  lead.  I  saw  quite  clear  the  red 
kloof  on  the  far  side,  where  the  collar  was  hid.  To  get 
there  we  might  have  ridden  straight  into  the  cup,  but  a 
providential  instinct  made  me  circle  round  the  top  till  we 
were  on  the  lip  of  the  ravine.  This  was  the  road  some  of 
Machudi's  men  had  taken,  and  unthinkingly  I  followed 
them.    Twenty  minutes'  riding  brought  us  to  the  place  and 


208  PRESTER  JOHN 

all  the  while  I  had  no  kind  of  plan  of  escape.  I  was  in 
the  hands  of  my  Maker,  watching,  like  the  Jews  of  old,  for 
a  sign. 

Laputa  dismounted  and  looked  down  into  the  gorge. 

"There  is  no  road  there,"  I  said.  "We  must  go  down 
to  the  foot  and  come  up  the  stream-side.  It  would  be  better 
to  leave  your  horse  here." 

He  started  down  the  cliff,  which  from  above  looks  a 
sheer  precipice.  Then  he  seemed  to  agree  with  me,  took  the 
rope  from  the  schimmeVs  neck,  and  knee-haltered  his  beast. 
And  at  that  moment  I  had  an  inspiration. 

With  my  wrist-rope  in  his  hand,  he  preceded  me  down 
the  hill  till  we  got  to  the  red  screes  at  the  foot  of  the  kloof. 
Then,  under  my  guidance,  we  turned  up  into  the  darkness 
of  the  gorge.  As  we  entered  I  looked  back,  and  saw  figures 
coming  over  the  edge  of  the  green  cup — Laputa's  men,  I 
guessed.    What  I  had  to  do  must  be  done  quickly. 

We  climbed  up  the  burn,  over  the  succession  of  little 
cataracts,  till  we  came  to  the  flat  space  of  shingle  and  the 
long  pool  where  I  had  been  taken  that  morning.  The  ashes 
of  the  fire  which  Machudi's  men  had  made  were  plain  on 
the  rock.  After  that  I  had  to  climb  a  waterfall  to  get  to 
the  rock  pool  where  I  had  bestowed  the  rubies. 

"You  must  take  off  this  thong,"  I  said.  "I  must  climb 
to  get  the  collar.  Cover  me  with  a  pistol  if  you  like.  I 
won't  be  out  of  sight." 

Laputa  undid  the  thong  and  set  me  free.  From  his  belt 
he  took  a  pistol,  cocked  it,  and  held  it  over  his  left  hand. 
I  had  seen  this  way  of  shooting  adopted  by  indifferent  shots, 


A  DEAL  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES       209 

and  it  gave  me  a  wild  hope  that  he  might  not  be  much  of 
a  marksman. 

It  did  not  take  me  long  to  find  the  pool,  close  against 
the  blackened  stump  of  a  tree-fern.  I  thrust  in  my  hand  and 
gathered  up  the  jewels  from  the  cool  sand.  They  came  out 
glowing  like  living  fires,  and  for  a  moment  I  thrilled  with 
a  sense  of  reverence.  Surely  these  were  no  common  stones 
which  held  in  them  the  very  heart  of  hell.  Clutching  them 
tightly,  I  climbed  down  to  Laputa. 

At  the  sight  of  the  great  Snake  he  gave  a  cry  of  rapture. 
Tearing  it  from  me,  he  held  it  at  arm's  length,  his  face 
lit  with  a  passionate  joy.  He  kissed  it,  he  raised  it  to  the 
sky  5  nay,  he  was  on  his  knees  before  it.  Once  more  he  was 
the  savage  transported  in  the  presence  of  his  fetich.  He 
turned  to  me  with  burning  eyes. 

"Down  on  your  knees,"  he  cried,  "and  reverence  the 
Ndhlondhlo!  Down,  you  impious  dog,  and  seek  pardon 
for  your  sacrilege!" 

"I  won't,"  I  said.    "I  won't  bow  to  any  heathen  idol." 

He  pointed  his  pistol  at  me. 

"In  a  second  I  shoot  where  your  head  is  now.  Down, 
you  fool,  or  perish!" 

"You  promised  me  my  life,"  I  said  stubbornly,  though 
Heaven  knows  why  I  chose  to  act  thus. 

He  dropped  the  pistol  and  flung  himself  on  me.  I  was 
helpless  as  a  baby  in  his  hands.  He  forced  me  to  the  ground 
and  rolled  my  face  in  the  sand;  then  he  pulled  me  to  my 
feet  and  tossed  me  backward,  till  I  almost  staggered  into  the 
pool.  I  saved  myself  and  staggered  instead  into  the  shallow 
at  the  foot  of  it,  close  under  the  ledge  of  the  precipice. 


210  PRESTER  JOHN 

That  morning,  when  Machudi's  men  were  cooking  break- 
fast, I  had  figured  out  a  route  up  the  cliff.  This  route 
was  now  my  hope  of  escape.  Laputa  had  dropped  his  pistol, 
and  the  collar  had  plunged  him  in  an  ecstasy  of  worship. 
Now,  if  ever,  was  my  time.  I  must  get  on  the  shelf  which 
ran  sideways  up  the  clifF  and  then  scramble  for  dear  life. 

I  pretended  to  be  dazed  and  terrified. 

"You  promised  me  my  life,"  I  whimpered. 

"Your  life!"  he  cried.  "Yes,  you  shall  have  your  lifej 
and  before  long  you  will  pray  for  death." 

"But  I  saved  the  Collar,"  I  pleaded.  "Henriques  would 
have  stolen  it.  I  brought  it  safe  here,  and  now  you  have 
got  it." 

Meantime  I  was  pulling  myself  up  on  the  shelf,  and 
loosening  with  one  hand  a  boulder  which  overhung  the  pool. 

"You  have  been  repaid,"  he  said  savagely.  "You  will 
not  die." 

"But  my  life  is  no  use  without  liberty,"  I  said,  working 
at  the  boulder  till  it  lay  loose  in  its  niche. 

He  did  not  answer,  being  intent  on  examining  the  Collar 
to  see  if  it  had  suffered  any  harm. 

"I  hope  it  isn't  scratched,"  I  said.  "Henriques  trod  on 
it  when  I  hit  him." 

Laputa  peered  at  the  gems  like  a  mother  at  a  child  who 
has  had  a  fall.  I  saw  my  chance  and  took  it.  With  a  great 
heave  I  pulled  the  boulder  down  into  the  pool.  It  made 
a  prodigious  splash,  sending  a  shower  of  spray  over  Laputa 
and  the  Collar.  In  cover  of  it  I  raced  up  the  shelf,  strain- 
ing for  the  shelter  of  the  juniper  tree. 

A  shot  rang  out  and  struck  the  rock  above  me.    A  second 


A  DEAL  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES       211 

later  I  had  reached  the  tree  and  was  scrambling  up  the 
crack  beyond  it. 

Laputa  did  not  fire  again.  He  may  have  distrusted  his 
shooting  or  seen  a  better  way  of  it.  He  dashed  through 
the  stream  and  ran  up  the  shelf  like  a  klipspringer  after 
me.  I  felt  rather  than  saw  what  was  happening,  and  with 
my  heart  in  my  mouth  I  gathered  my  dregs  of  energy  for 
the  last  struggle. 

You  know  the  nightmare  when  you  are  pursued  by  some 
awful  terror  and,  though  sick  with  fear,  your  legs  have 
a  strange  numbness,  and  you  cannot  drag  them  in  obedience 
to  the  will.  Such  was  my  feeling  in  the  crack  above  the 
juniper  tree.  In  truth,  I  had  passed  the  bounds  of  my  en- 
durance. Last  night  I  had  walked  fifty  miles,  and  all  day 
I  had  borne  the  torments  of  a  dreadful  suspense.  I  had  been 
bound  and  gagged  and  beaten  till  the  force  was  out  of  my 
limbs.  Also,  and  above  all,  I  had  had  little  food,  and  I  was 
dizzy  with  want  of  sleep.  My  feet  seemed  leaden,  my  hands 
had  no  more  grip  than  putty.  I  do  not  know  how  I  escaped 
falling  into  the  pool,  for  my  head  was  singing  and  my  heart 
thumping  in  my  throat.  I  seemed  to  feel  Laputa's  great 
hand  every  second  clawin»g  at  my  heels. 

I  had  reason  for  my  fears.  He  had  entered  the  crack 
long  before  I  had  reached  the  top  and  his  progress  was 
twice  as  fast  as  mine.  When  I  emerged  on  the  topmost 
shelf  he  was  scarcely  a  yard  behind  me.  But  an  overhang 
checked  his  bulky  figure  and  gave  me  a  few  seconds'  grace. 
I  needed  it  all,  for  these  last  steps  on  the  shelf  were  the  tot- 
terings  of  an  old  man.  Only  a  desperate  resolution  and  an 
extreme  terror  made  me  drag  one   foot  after  the  other. 


212  PRESTER  JOHN 

Blindly  I  staggered  on  to  the  top  of  the  ravine,  and  saw  be- 
fore me  the  schimmel  grazing  in  the  light  of  the  westering 
sun. 

I  forced  myself  into  a  sort  of  drunken  run,  and  crawled 
into  the  saddle.  Behind  me,  as  I  turned,  I  could  see  Laputa's 
shoulders  rising  over  the  edge.  I  had  no  knife  to  cut  the 
knee-halter,  and  the  horse  could  not  stir. 

Then  the  miracle  happened.  When  the  rope  had  gagged 
me,  my  teeth  must  have  nearly  severed  it  at  one  place,  and 
this  Laputa  had  not  noticed  when  he  used  it  as  a  knee- 
halter.  The  shock  of  my  entering  the  saddle  made  the 
schimmel  fling  up  his  head  violently,  and  the  rope  snapped. 
I  could  not  find  the  stirrups  but  I  dug  my  heels  into  his  sides, 
and  he  leaped  forward. 

At  the  same  moment  Laputa  began  to  shoot.  It  was  a 
foolish  move,  for  he  might  have  caught  me  by  running, 
since  I  had  neither  spurs  nor  whip,  and  the  horse  was  ham- 
pered by  the  loose  end  of  rope  at  his  knee.  In  any  case, 
being  an  indifferent  shot,  he  should  have  aimed  at  the  schim- 
mel, not  at  me  5  but  I  suppose  he  wished  to  save  his  charger. 
One  bullet  sang  past  my  head;  a  second  did  my  business  for 
me.  It  passed  over  my  shoulder,  as  I  lay  low  in  the  saddle, 
and  grazed  the  beast's  right  ear.  The  pain  maddened  him 
and,  rope-end  and  all,  he  plunged  into  a  wild  gallop.  Other 
shots  came,  but  they  fell  far  short.  I  saw  dimly  a  native  or 
two — the  men  who  had  followed  us — rush  to  intercept  me, 
and  I  think  a  spear  was  flung.  But  in  a  flash  we  were  past 
them,  and  their  cries  faded  behind  me.  I  found  the  bridle, 
reached  for  the  stirrups,  and  galloped  straight  for  the  sunset 
and  for  freedom. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

HOW  A  MAN   MAY  SOMETIMES   PUT   HIS  TRUST   IN   A   HORSE 

I  HAD  long  passed  the  limit  of  my  strength.  Only  constant 
fear  and  wild  alternations  of  hope  had  kept  me  going  so 
long,  and  now  that  I  was  safe  I  became  lightheaded  in 
earnest.  The  wonder  is  that  I  did  not  fall  off.  Happily  the 
horse  was  good  and  the  ground  easy,  for  I  was  powerless  to 
do  any  guiding.  I  simply  sat  on  his  back  in  a  silly  glow 
of  comfort,  keeping  a  line  for  the  dying  sun,  which  I  saw 
in  a  nick  of  the  Iron  Crown  Mountain.  A  sort  of  childish 
happiness  possessed  me.  After  three  days  of  imminent  peril, 
to  be  free  was  to  be  in  fairyland.  To  be  swishing  through 
the  long  bracken  or  plunging  among  the  breast-high  flowers 
of  the  meadowland,  in  a  world  of  essential  lights  and  fra- 
grances, seemed  scarcely  part  of  mortal  experience.  Re- 
member that  I  was  little  more  than  a  lad  and  that  I  had  faced 
death  so  often  of  late  that  my  mind  was  all  adrift.  To  be 
able  to  hope  once  more,  nay,  to  be  allowed  to  cease  both 
from  hope  and  fear  was  like  a  deep  and  happy  opiate  to 
my  senses.  Spent  and  weak  as  I  was,  my  soul  swam  in  blessed 
waters  of  ease. 

The  mood  did  not  last  long.  I  came  back  to  earth  with 
a  shock,  as  the  schimmel  stumbled  at  the  crossing  of  a 
stream.  I  saw  that  the  darkness  was  fast  falling,  and  with 
the  sight  panic  returned  to  me.     Behind  me  I  seemed  to 

213 


214  PRESTER  JOHN 

hear  the  sound  of  pursuit.  The  noise  was  in  my  ears,  but 
when  I  turned  it  ceased,  and  I  saw  only  the  dusky  shoulders 
of  hills. 

I  tried  to  remember  what  Arcoll  had  told  me  about  his 
headquarters  but  my  memory  was  wiped  clean.  I  thought 
they  were  on  or  near  the  highway  but  I  could  not  remember 
where  the  highway  was.  Besides,  he  was  close  to  the  enemy 
and  I  wanted  to  get  back  into  the  towns,  far  away  from 
the  battle  line.  If  I  rode  west  I  must  come  in  time  to  vil- 
lages, where  I  could  hide  myself.  These  were  unworthy 
thoughts  but  my  excuse  must  be  my  tattered  nerves.  When 
a  man  comes  out  of  great  danger,  he  is  apt  to  be  a  little  deaf 
to  the  call  of  duty. 

Suddenly  I  became  ashamed.  God  had  preserved  me 
from  deadly  perils,  but  not  that  I  might  cower  in  some  shel- 
ter. I  had  a  mission  as  clear  as  Laputa's.  For  the  first  time 
I  became  conscious  to  what  a  little  thing  I  owed  my  salva- 
tion. That  matter  of  the  broken  halter  was  like  the  finger 
of  Divine  Providence.  I  had  been  saved  for  a  purpose,  and 
unless  I  fulfilled  that  purpose  I  should  again  be  lost.  I  was 
always  a  fatalist,  and  in  that  hour  of  strained  body  and 
soul  I  became  something  of  a  mystic.  My  panic  ceased,  my 
lethargy  departed,  and  a  more  manly  resolution  took  their 
place.  I  gripped  the  schimmel  by  the  head  and  turned  him 
due  left.  Now  I  remembered  where  the  highroad  ran  and 
I  remembered  something  else. 

For  it  was  borne  in  on  me  that  Laputa  had  fallen  into  my 
hands.  Without  any  subtle  purpose  I  had  played  a  master 
game.  He  was  cut  off  from  his  people,  without  a  horse, 
on  the  wrong  side  of  the  highroad  which  ArcolPs  men  pa- 


A  MAN'S  TRUST  IN  A  HORSE  215 

trolled.  Without  him  the  rising  would  crumble.  There 
might  be  war,  even  desperate  war,  but  we  should  fight  against 
a  leaderless  foe.  If  he  could  only  be  shepherded  to  the 
north  his  game  was  over,  and  at  our  leisure  we  could  mop 
up  the  scattered  concentrations. 

I  was  now  as  eager  to  get  back  into  danger  as  I  had  been 
to  get  into  safety.  Arcoll  must  be  found  and  warned  and 
that  at  once,  or  Laputa  would  slip  over  to  Inanda's  Kraal 
under  cover  of  dark.  It  was  a  matter  of  minutes,  and  on 
these  minutes  depended  the  lives  of  thousands.  It  was  also 
a  matter  of  ebbing  strength,  for  with  my  return  to  common 
sense  I  saw  very  clearly  how  near  my  capital  was  spent. 
If  I  could  reach  the  highroad,  find  Arcoll  or  ArcolPs  men 
and  give  them  my  news,  I  would  do  my  countrymen  a 
service  such  as  no  man  in  Africa  could  render.  But  I  felt 
my  head  swimming,  I  was  swaying  crazily  in  the  saddle, 
and  my  hands  had  scarcely  the  force  of  a  child's.  I  could 
only  lie  limply  on  the  horse's  back,  clutching  at  his  mane  with 
trembling  fingers.  I  remember  that  my  head  was  full  of 
a  text  from  the  Psalms  about  not  putting  one's  trust  in  horses. 
I  prayed  that  this  one  horse  might  be  an  exception,  for  he 
carried  more  than  Caesar  and  his  fortunes. 

My  mind  is  a  blank  about  these  last  minutes.  In  less 
than  an  hour  after  my  escape  I  struck  the  highway,  but  it 
was  an  hour  which  in  the  retrospect  unrolls  itself  into  un- 
quiet years.  I  was  dimly  conscious  of  scrambling  through 
a  ditch  and  coming  to  a  ghostly  white  road.  The  schimmel 
swung  to  the  right,  and  the  next  I  knew  some  one  had  taken 
my  bridle  and  was  speaking  to  me. 

At  first  I  thought  it  was  Laputa  and  screamed.     Then  I 


216  PRESTER  JOHN 

must  have  tottered  in  the  saddle,  for  I  felt  an  arm  slip 
round  my  middle.  The  rider  uncorked  a  bottle  with  his 
teeth  and  forced  some  brandy  down  my  throat.  I  choked 
and  coughed  and  then  looked  up  to  see  a  white  policeman 
staring  at  me.  I  knew  the  police  by  the  green  shoulder- 
straps. 

"Arcoll,"  I  managed  to  croak.  "For  God's  sake,  take 
me  to  Arcoll." 

The  man  whistled  shrilly  on  his  fingers  and  a  second  rider 
came  cantering  down  the  road.  As  he  came  up  I  recognised 
his  face  but  could  not  put  a  name  to  it. 

"Losh,  it's  the  lad  Crawfurd,"  I  heard  a  voice  say. 
"Crawfurd,  man,  d'ye  no  mind  me  at  Lourengo  Marques.? 
Aitken?" 

The  Scotch  tongue  worked  a  spell  with  me.  It  cleared 
my  wits  and  opened  the  gates  of  my  past  life.  At  last  I 
knew  I  was  among  my  own  folk. 

"I  must  see  Arcoll.  I  have  news  for  him — tremendous 
news.  O  man,  take  me  to  Arcoll  and  ask  me  no  questions. 
Where  is  he?     Where  is  he.?" 

"As  it  happens,  he's  about  two  hundred  yards  off,"  Aitken 
said.    "That  light  ye  see  at  the  top  of  the  brae  is  his  camp." 

They  helped  me  up  the  road,  a  man  on  each  side  of  me, 
for  I  could  never  have  kept  in  the  saddle  without  their 
support.  My  message  to  Arcoll  kept  humming  in  my  head 
as  I  tried  to  put  it  into  words,  for  I  had  a  horrid  fear  that 
my  wits  would  fail  me  and  I  should  be  dumb  when  the  time 
came.  Also  I  was  in  a  fever  of  haste.  Every  minute  I 
wasted  increased  Laputa's  chance  of  getting  back  to  the 
kraal.    He  had  men  with  him  every  bit  as  skilful  as  Arcoll's 


A  MAN'S  TRUST  IN  A  HORSE  217 

trackers.  Unless  Arcoll  had  a  big  force  and  the  best  horses 
there  was  no  hope.  Often  in  looking  back  at  this  hour  I 
have  marvelled  at  the  strangeness  of  my  behaviour.  Here 
was  I  just  set  free  from  the  certainty  of  a  hideous  death, 
and  yet  I  had  lost  all  joy  in  my  security.  I  was  more  fevered 
at  the  thought  of  Laputa's  escape  than  I  had  been  at  the 
prospect  of  David  Crawfurd's  end. 

The  next  thing  I  knew  I  was  being  lifted  off  the  schimmel 
by  what  seemed  to  me  a  thousand  hands.  Then  came  a  glow 
of  light,  a  great  moon,  in  the  centre  of  which  I  stood  blink- 
ing. I  was  forced  to  sit  down  on  a  bed,  while  some  one  gave 
me  a  cup  of  hot  tea,  far  more  reviving  than  any  spirits.  I 
became  conscious  that  some  one  was  holding  my  hands,  and 
speaking  very  slowly  and  gently. 

"Davie,"  the  voice  said,  "youVe  back  among  friends,  my 
lad.    Tell  me,  where  have  you  been? " 

"I  want  Arcoll,"  I  moaned.  "Where  is  Ratitswan?" 
There  were  tears  of  weakness  running  down  my  cheeks. 

"Arcoll  is  here,"  said  the  voice;  "he  is  holding  your  hands, 
Davie.     Quiet,  lad,  quiet.    Your  troubles  are  all  over  now." 

I  made  a  great  effort,  found  the  eyes  to  which  the  voice 
belonged,  and  spoke  to  them. 

"Listen.  I  stole  the  collar  of  Prester  John  at  Dupree's 
Drift.  I  was  caught  in  the  Berg  and  taken  to  the  kraal — 
I  forget  its  name — but  I  had  hid  the  rubies." 

"Yes,"  the  voice  said,  "you  hid  the  rubies — and  then?" 

"Inkulu  wanted  them  back,  so  I  made  a  deal  with  him. 
I  took  him  to  Machudi's  and  gave  him  the  collar,  and  then 
he  fired  at  me  and  I  climbed  and  climbed  ...  I  climbed 
on  a  horse,"  I  concluded  childishly. 


218  PRESTER  JOHN 

I  heard  the  voice  say  "Yes?"  again  inquiringly,  but  my 
mind  ran  off  at  a  tangent. 

"Beyers  took  guns  up  into  the  Wolkberg,"  I  cried  shrilly. 
"Why  the  devil  don't  you  do  the  same?  You  have  the  whole 
Kaffir  army  in  a  trap." 

I  saw  a  smiling  face  before  me. 

"Good  lad.  Colles  told  me  you  weren't  wanting  in  in- 
telligence.   What  if  we  have  done  that  very  thing,  Davie? " 

But  I  was  not  listening.  I  was  trying  to  remember  the 
thing  I  most  wanted  to  say,  and  that  was  not  about  Beyers 
and  his  guns.  Those  were  nightmare  minutes.  A  speaker 
who  has  lost  the  thread  of  his  discourse,  a  soldier  who  with 
a  bayonet  at  his  throat  has  forgotten  the  password — I  felt 
like  them,  and  worse.  And  to  crown  all  I  felt  my  faintness 
coming  back,  and  my  head  dropping  with  heaviness.  I  was 
in  a  torment  of  impotence. 

Arcoll,  still  holding  my  hands,  brought  his  face  close 
to  mine  so  that  his  clear  eyes  mastered  and  constrained  me. 

"Look  at  me,  Davie,"  I  heard  him  say.  "You  have 
something  to  tell  me,  and  it  is  very  important.  It  is  about 
Laputa,  isn't  it?  Think,  man.  You  took  him  to  Machudi's 
and  gave  him  the  collar.  He  has  gone  back  with  it  to 
Inanda's  Kraal.     Very  well,  my  guns  will  hold  him  there." 

I  shook  my  head.  "You  can't.  You  may  split  the  army, 
but  you  can't  hold  Laputa.  He  will  be  over  the  Olifants 
before  you  fire  a  shot." 

"We  will  hunt  him  down  before  he  crosses.  And  if  not, 
we  will  catch  him  at  the  railway." 

"For  God's  sake,  hurry  then,"  I  cried.  "In  an  hour  he 
will  be  over  it  and  back  in  the  kraal." 


ARCOLL'S  SHEPHERDING  219 

"But  the  river  is  a  long  way." 

"River?"  I  repeated  hazily.  "What  river?  The  Letaba 
is  not  the  place.    It  is  the  road  I  mean." 

ArcolPs  hands  closed  firmly  on  my  v^rists. 

"You  left  Laputa  at  Machudi's  and  rode  here  without 
stopping.  That  would  take  you  an  hour.  Had  Laputa  a 
horse?" 

"Yes;  but  I  took  it,"  I  stammered.  "You  can  see  it  be- 
hind me." 

Arcoll  dropped  my  hands  and  stood  up  straight. 

"By  God,  weVe  got  him!"  he  said,  and  he  spoke  to  his 
companions.    A  man  turned  and  ran  out  of  the  tent. 

Then  I  remembered  what  I  wanted  to  say.  I  struggled 
from  the  bed  and  put  my  hands  on  his  shoulders. 

"Laputa  is  on  our  side  of  the  highroad.  Cut  him  off  from 
his  men,  and  drive  him  north — north — away  up  to  the 
Rooirand.  Never  mind  the  Wolkberg  and  the  guns,  for  they 
can  wait.  I  tell  you  Laputa  is  the  Rising  and  he  has  the 
collar.  Without  him  you  can  mop  up  the  Kaffirs  at  your 
leisure.  Line  the  highroad  with  every  man  you  have,  for 
he  must  cross  it  or  perish.  Oh,  hurry,  man,  hurry;  never 
mind  me.  We're  saved  if  we  can  chivy  Laputa  till  morning. 
Quick,  or  Pll  have  to  go  myself." 

The  tent  emptied,  and  I  lay  back  on  the  bed  with  a  dim 
feeling  that  my  duty  was  done  and  I  could  rest.  Hence- 
forth the  affair  was  in  stronger  hands  than  mine.  I  was 
so  weak  that  I  could  not  lift  my  legs  up  to  the  bed,  but 
sprawled  half  on  and  half  off. 

Utter  exhaustion  defeats  sleep.  I  was  in  a  fever  and  my 
eyes  would  not  close.     I  lay  and  drowsed  while  it  seemed 


220  PRESTER  JOHN 

to  me  that  the  outside  world  was  full  of  men  and  horses.  I 
heard  voices  and  the  sound  of  hoofs  and  the  jingle  of  bridles, 
but  above  all  I  heard  the  solid  tramp  of  an  army.  The  whole 
earth  seemed  to  be  full  of  war.  Before  my  mind  was 
spread  the  ribbon  of  the  great  highway.  I  saw  it  run  white 
through  the  meadows  of  the  plateau,  then  in  a  dark  cork- 
screw down  the  glen  of  the  Letaba,  then  white  again  through 
the  vast  moonlit  bush  of  the  plains,  till  the  shanties  of  Wes- 
selsburg  rose  at  the  end  of  it.  It  seemed  to  me  to  be  less 
a  road  than  a  rampart  built  of  shining  marble,  the  Great 
Wall  of  Africa.  I  saw  Laputa  come  out  of  the  shadows  and 
try  to  climb  it,  and  always  there  was  the  sound  of  a  rifle 
breach  clicking,  a  summons,  and  a  flight.  I  began  to  take 
a  keen  interest  in  the  game.  Down  in  the  bush  were  the 
dark  figures  of  the  hunted,  and  on  the  white  wall  were  my 
own  people — horse,  foot,  and  artillery,  the  squadrons  of  our 
defence.  What  a  general  Arcoll  was,  and  how  great  a 
matter  had  David  Crawfurd  kindled! 

A  man  came  in — I  suppose  a  doctor.  He  took  off  my 
leggings  and  boots,  cutting  them  from  my  bleeding  feet, 
but  I  knew  no  pain.  He  felt  my  pulse  and  listened  to  my 
heart.  Then  he  washed  my  face  and  gave  me  a  bowl  of 
hot  milk.  There  must  have  been  a  drug  in  the  milk,  for 
I  had  scarcely  drunk  it  before  a  tide  of  sleep  seemed  to 
flow  over  my  brain.  The  white  rampart  faded  from  my 
eyes  and  I  slept. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

arcoll's  shepherding 

While  I  lay  in  a  drugged  slumber  great  things  were  hap- 
pening. What  I  have  to  tell  is  no  experience  of  my  own,  but 
the  story  as  I  pieced  it  together  afterwards  from  talks  with 
Arcoll  and  Aitken.  The  history  of  the  Rising  has  been 
compiled.  As  I  write  I  see  before  me  on  the  shelves  two 
neat  blue  volumes  in  which  Mr.  Alexander  Upton,  some- 
time correspondent  of  the  Times^  has  told  for  the  edifica- 
tion of  posterity  the  tale  of  the  war  between  the  Plains 
and  the  Plateau.  To  him  the  Kaffir  hero  is  Umbooni,  a 
half-witted  ruffian,  whom  we  afterwards  caught  and  hanged. 
He  mentions  Laputa  only  in  a  footnote  as  a  renegade  Chris- 
tian who  had  something  to  do  with  fomenting  discontent. 
He  considers  that  the  word  "Inkulu,"  which  he  often  heard, 
was  a  Zulu  name  for  God.  Mr.  Upton  is  a  picturesque 
historian  but  he  knew  nothing  of  the  most  romantic  incident 
of  all.  This  is  the  tale  of  the  midnight  shepherding  of  the 
"heir  of  John"  by  Arcoll  and  his  irregulars. 

At  Bruderstroom,  where  I  was  lying  unconscious,  there 
were  two  hundred  men  of  the  police;  sixty-three  Basuto 
scouts  under  a  man  called  Stephen,  who  was  half  native  in 
blood  and  wholly  native  in  habits;  and  three  commandoes 
of  the  farmers,  each  about  forty  strong.     The  commandoes 


222  PRESTER  JOHN 

were  really  companies  of  the  North  Transvaal  volunteers, 
but  the  old  name  had  been  kept  and  something  of  the  old 
loose  organisation.  There  were  also  two  four-gun  batteries 
of  volunteer  artillery,  but  these  were  out  on  the  western 
skirts  of  the  Wolkberg  following  Beyers's  historic  precedent. 
Several  companies  of  regulars  were  on  their  way  from 
Pietersdorp  but  they  did  not  arrive  till  the  next  day.  When 
they  came  they  went  to  the  Wolkberg  to  join  the  artillery. 
Along  the  Berg  at  strategic  points  were  pickets  of  police 
with  native  trackers,  and  at  Blaauwildebeestefontein  there 
was  a  strong  force  with  two  field  guns,  for  there  was  some 
fear  of  a  second  Kaffir  army  marching  by  that  place  to 
Inanda's  Kraal.  At  Wesselsburg  out  on  the  plain  there 
was  a  biggish  police  patrol,  and  a  system  of  small  patrols 
along  the  road,  with  a  fair  number  of  Basuto  scouts.  But 
the  road  was  picketed,  not  held;  for  ArcolPs  patrols  were 
only  a  branch  of  his  Intelligence  Department.  It  was  per- 
fectly easy,  as  I  had  found  myself,  to  slip  across  in  a  gap 
of  the  pickets. 

Laputa  would  be  in  a  hurry,  and  therefore  he  would  try 
to  cross  at  the  nearest  point.  Hence  it  was  ArcolPs  first 
business  to  hold  the  line  between  the  defile  of  the  Letaba 
and  the  camp  at  Bruderstroom.  A  detachment  of  the  police 
who  were  well  mounted  galloped  at  racing  speed  for  the 
defile,  and  behind  them  the  rest  lined  out  along  the  road. 
The  farmers  took  a  line  at  right  angles  to  the  road  so  as  to 
prevent  an  escape  on  the  western  flank.  The  Basutos  were 
sent  into  the  woods  as  a  sort  of  advanced  post  to  bring  tid- 
ings of  any  movement  there.  Finally  a  body  of  police  with 
native  runners  at  their  stirrups  rode  on  to  the  drift  where 


A  MAN'S  TRUST  IN  A  HORSE  223 

the  road  crosses  the  Letaba.  The  place  is  called  Main  Drift, 
and  you  will  find  it  on  the  map.  The  natives  were  first  of 
all  to  locate  Laputa  and  prevent  him  getting  out  on  the  south 
side  of  the  triangle  of  hill  and  wood  between  Machudi's, 
the  road,  and  the  Letaba.  If  he  failed  there,  he  must  try 
to  ford  the  Letaba  below  the  drift  and  cross  the  road  between 
the  drift  and  Wesselsburg.  Now  Arcoll  had  not  men 
enough  to  watch  the  whole  line,  and  therefore  if  Laputa 
were  once  driven  below  the  drift,  he  might  shift  his  men 
further  down  the  road.  Consequently  it  was  of  the  first 
importance  to  locate  Laputa's  whereabouts,  and  for  this  pur- 
pose the  native  trackers  were  sent  forward.  There  was  just 
a  chance  of  capturing  him,  but  Arcoll  knew  too  well  his 
amazing  veld-craft  and  great  strength  of  body  to  build  much 
hope  on  that. 

We  were  none  too  soon.  The  advance  men  of  the  police 
rode  into  one  of  the  Kaffirs  from  Inanda's  Kraal,  whom 
Laputa  had  sent  forward  to  see  if  the  way  was  clear.  In  two 
minutes  more  he  would  have  been  across  and  out  of  our 
power,  for  we  had  no  chance  of  overtaking  him  in  the  woody 
ravines  of  the  Letaba.  The  Kaffir,  when  he  saw  us,  dived 
back  into  the  grass  on  the  north  side  of  the  road,  which  made 
it  clear  that  Laputa  was  still  there. 

After  that  nothing  happened  for  a  little.  The  police 
reached  their  drift,  and  all  the  road  west  of  that  point 
was  strongly  held.  The  flanking  commandoes  joined  hands 
with  one  of  the  police  posts  further  north  and  moved  slowly 
to  the  scarp  of  the  Berg.  They  saw  nobody;  from  which 
Arcoll  could  deduce  that  his  man  had  gone  down  the  Berg 
into  the  forests. 


224  PRESTER  JOHN 

Had  the  Basutos  been  any  good  at  woodcraft  we  should 
have  had  better  intelligence.  But  living  in  a  bare  mountain 
country  they  are  apt  to  find  themselves  puzzled  in  a  forest. 
The  best  men  among  the  trackers  were  some  renegades  of 
'Mpefu,  who  sent  back  word  by  some  device  known  only  to 
Arcoll  that  five  Kafiirs  were  in  the  woods  a  mile  north  of 
Main  Drift.  By  this  time  it  was  after  ten  o'clock,  and 
the  moon  was  rising.  The  five  men  separated  soon  after 
and  the  reports  became  confused.  Then  Laputa,  as  the 
biggest  of  the  five,  was  located  on  the  banks  of  the  Great 
Letaba  about  two  miles  below  Main  Drift. 

The  question  was  as  to  his  crossing.  Arcoll  had  assumed 
that  he  would  swim  the  river  and  try  to  get  over  the  road 
between  Main  Drift  and  Wesselsburg.  But  in  this  assump- 
tion he  underrated  the  shrewdness  of  his  opponent.  Laputa 
knew  perfectly  well  that  we  had  not  enough  men  to  patrol 
the  whole  countryside,  but  that  the  river  enabled  us  to 
divide  the  land  into  two  sections  and  concentrate  strongly 
on  one  or  the  other.  Accordingly  he  left  the  Great  Letaba 
unforded,  and  resolved  to  make  a  long  circuit  back  to  the; 
Berg.  One  of  his  Kafiirs  swam  the  river,  and  when  word 
of  this  was  brought  Arcoll  began  to  withdraw  his  posts  fur- 
ther down  the  road.  But  as  the  men  were  changing, 
'Mpefu's  fellows  got  wind  of  Laputa's  turn  to  the  left,  and 
in  great  haste  Arcoll  countermanded  the  move  and  waited 
in  deep  perplexity  at  Main  Drift. 

The  salvation  of  his  scheme  were  the  farmers  on  the 
scarp  of  the  Berg.  They  lit  fires  and  gave  Laputa  the  notion 
of  a  great  army.  Instead  of  going  up  the  glen  of  Machudi 
or  the  Letsitela  he  bore  away  to  the  north  for  the  valley 


ARCOLL'S  SHEPHERDING  225 

of  the  Klein  Letaba.  The  pace  at  which  he  moved  must 
have  been  amazing.  He  had  a  great  physique,  hard  as  nails 
from  long  travelling,  and  in  his  own  eyes  he  had  an  empire 
at  stake.  When  I  look  at  the  map  and  see  the  journey  which 
with  vast  fatigue  I  completed  from  Dupree^s  Drift  to 
Machudi's,  and  then  look  at  the  huge  spaces  of  country  over 
which  Laputa's  legs  took  him  on  that  night,  I  am  lost  in 
admiration  of  the  man. 

About  midnight  he  must  have  crossed  the  Letsitela.  Here 
he  made  a  grave  blunder.  If  he  had  tried  the  Berg  by  one 
of  the  faces  he  might  have  got  on  to  the  plateau  and  been  at 
Inanda's  Kraal  by  the  dawning.  But  he  overestimated  the 
size  of  the  commandoes  and  held  on  to  the  north  where  he 
thought  there  would  be  no  defence.  About  one  o'clock 
Arcoll,  tired  of  inaction  and  conscious  that  he  had  misread 
Laputa's  tactics,  resolved  on  a  bold  stroke.  He  sent  half 
his  police  to  the  Berg  to  reinforce  the  commandoes,  bidding 
them  get  into  touch  with  the  post  at  Blaauwildebeestefontein. 

A  little  after  two  o'clock  a  diversion  occurred.  Henriques 
succeeded  in  crossing  the  road  three  miles  east  of  Main  Drift. 
He  had  probably  left  the  kraal  early  in  the  night  and  had 
tried  to  cross  further  west,  but  had  been  deterred  by  the 
patrols.  East  of  Main  Drift,  where  the  police  were  fewer, 
he  succeeded  J  but  he  had  not  gone  far  till  he  was  discovered 
by  the  Basuto  scouts.  The  find  was  reported  to  Arcoll  who 
guessed  at  once  who  this  traveller  was.  He  dared  not  send 
out  any  of  his  white  men  but  he  bade  a  party  of  the  scouts 
follow  the  Portugoose's  trail.  They  shadowed  him  to  Du- 
pree's  Drift,  where  he  crossed  the  Letaba.  There  he  lay 
down  by  the  roadside  to  sleep  while  they  kept  him  company. 


226  PRESTER  JOHN 

A  hard  fellow  Henriques  was,  for  he  could  slumber  peace- 
fully on  the  very  scene  of  his  murder. 

Dawn  found  Laputa  at  the  head  of  the  Klein  Letaba  glen, 
not  far  from  'Mpefu's  kraal.  He  got  food  at  a  hut  and  set 
off  at  once  up  the  wooded  hill  above  it,  which  is  a  promontory 
of  the  plateau.  By  this  time  he  must  have  been  weary,  or 
he  would  not  have  blundered  as  he  did  right  into  a  post  of 
the  farmers.  He  was  within  an  ace  of  capture,  and  to  save 
himself  was  forced  back  from  the  scarp.  He  seems,  to 
judge  from  reports,  to  have  gone  a  little  way  south  in  the 
thicker  timber  and  then  to  have  turned  north  again  in  the 
direction  of  Blaauwildebeestefontein.  After  that  his  move- 
ments are  obscure.  He  was  seen  on  the  Klein  Labongo  but 
the  sight  of  the  post  at  Blaauwildebeestefontein  must  have 
convinced  him  that  a  korhaan  could  not  escape  that  way. 
The  next  we  heard  of  him  was  that  he  had  joined  Hen- 
riques. 

After  daybreak  Arcoll,  having  got  his  reports  from  the 
plateau  and  knowing  roughly  the  direction  in  which  Laputa 
was  shaping,  decided  to  advance  his  lines.  The  farmers, 
reinforced  by  three  more  commandoes  from  the  Pietersdorp 
district,  still  held  the  plateau  but  the  police  were  now  on 
the  line  of  the  Great  Letaba.  It  was  Arcoll's  plan  to  hold 
that  river  and  the  long  neck  of  land  between  it  and  the 
Labongo.  His  force  was  hourly  increasing  and  his  mounted 
men  would  be  able  to  prevent  any  escape  on  the  flank  to  the 
east  of  Wesselsburg. 

So  it  happened  that  while  Laputa  was  being  driven  east 
from  the  Berg,  Henriques  was  travelling  north,  and  their 
lines  intersected.     I  should  like  to  have  seen  the  meeting. 


ARCOLL'S  SHEPHERDING  227 

It  must  have  told  Laputa  what  had  always  been  in  the  Portu- 
goose's  heart.  Henriques,  I  fancy,  was  making  for  the  cave 
in  the  Rooirand.  Laputa,  so  far  as  I  can  guess  at  his  mind, 
had  a  plan  for  getting  over  the  Portuguese  border,  fetching 
a  wide  circuit  and  joining  his  men  at  any  of  the  concentra- 
tions between  there  and  Amsterdam. 

The  two  were  seen  at  midday  going  down  the  road  which 
leads  from  Blaauwildebeestefontein  to  the  Lebombo.  Then 
they  struck  ArcolPs  new  front,  which  stretched  from  the 
Letaba  to  the  Labongo.  This  drove  them  north  again  and 
forced  them  to  swim  the  latter  stream.  From  there  to  the 
eastern  extremity  of  the  Rooirand,  which  is  the  Portuguese 
frontier,  the  country  is  open  and  rolling,  with  a  thin  light 
scrub  in  the  hollows.  It  was  bad  cover  for  the  fugitives,  as 
they  found  to  their  cost.  For  Arcoll  had  purposely  turned 
his  police  into  a  flying  column.  They  no  longer  held  a  linej 
they  scoured  a  country.  Only  Laputa's  incomparable  veld- 
craft  and  great  bodily  strength  prevented  the  two  from  be- 
ing caught  in  half  an  hour.  They  doubled  back,  swam  the 
Labongo  again  and  got  into  the  thick  bush  on  the  north  side 
of  the  Blaauwildebeestefontein  road.  The  Basuto  scouts 
were  magnificent  in  the  open  but  in  the  cover  they  were 
again  at  fault.  Laputa  and  Henriques  fairly  baffled  them, 
so  that  the  pursuit  turned  to  the  west  in  the  belief  that  the 
fugitives  had  made  for  Majinje's  kraal.  In  reality  they 
had  recrossed  the  Labongo  and  were  making  for  Umvelos'. 

All  this  I  heard  afterwards,  but  in  the  meantime  I  lay  in 
ArcolPs  tent  in  deep  unconsciousness.  While  my  enemies 
were  being  chased  like  partridges,  I  was  reaping  the  fruits 


228  PRESTER  JOHN 

of  four  days'  toil  and  terror.  The  hunters  had  become  the 
hunted,  the  wheel  had  come  full  circle,  and  the  woes  of 
David  Crawfurd  were  being  abundantly  avenged. 

I  slept  till  midday  of  the  next  day.  When  I  awoke  the 
hot  noontide  sun  had  made  the  tent  like  an  oven.  I  felt 
better  but  very  stiff  and  sore,  and  I  had  a  most  ungovernable 
thirst.  There  was  a  pail  of  water  with  a  tin  pannikin  be- 
side the  tent  pole,  and  out  of  this  I  drank  repeated  draughts. 
Then  I  lay  down  again,  for  I  was  still  very  weary. 

But  my  second  sleep  was  not  like  my  first.  It  was  haunted 
by  wild  nightmares.  No  sooner  had  I  closed  my  eyes  than 
I  began  to  live  and  move  in  a  fantastic  world.  The  whole 
bush  of  the  plains  lay  before  me  and  I  watched  it  as  if 
from  some  viewpoint  in  the  clouds.  It  was  midday  and  the 
sandy  patches  shimmered  under  a  haze  of  heat.  I  saw  odd 
little  movements  in  the  bush — a  buck's  head  raised,  a  paauw 
stalking  solemnly  in  the  long  grass,  a  big  crocodile  rolling 
off  a  mudbank  in  the  river.  And  then  I  saw  quite  clearly 
Laputa's  figure  going  east. 

In  my  sleep  I  did  not  think  about  ArcolPs  manoeuvres. 
My  mind  was  wholly  set  upon  Laputa.  He  was  walking 
wearily  yet  at  a  good  pace,  and  his  head  was  always  turning, 
like  a  wild  creature  snuffing  the  wind.  There  was  some- 
thing with  him,  a  shapeless  shadow,  which  I  could  not 
see  clearly.  His  neck  was  bare  but  I  knew  well  that  the 
collar  was  in  his  pouch. 

He  stopped,  turned  west,  and  I  lost  him.  The  bush 
world  for  a  space  was  quite  silent  and  I  watched  it  eagerly 
as  an  aeronaut  would  watch  the  ground  for  a  descent.  For 
a  long  time  I  could  see  nothing.     Then  in  a  wood  near  a 


ARCOLL'S  SHEPHERDING  229 

river  there  seemed  to  be  a  rustling.  Some  guinea-fowl  flew 
up  as  if  startled,  and  a  stembok  scurried  out.  I  knew  that 
Laputa  must  be  there. 

Then,  as  I  looked  at  the  river,  I  saw  a  head  swimming. 
Nay,  I  saw  two,  one  some  distance  behind  the  other.  The 
first  man  landed  on  the  far  bank  and  I  recognised  Laputa. 
The  second  was  a  slight  short  figure  and  I  knew  it  was 
Henriques. 

I  remember  feeling  very  glad  that  these  two  had  come 
together.  It  was  certain  now  that  Henriques  would  not 
escape.  Either  Laputa  would  find  out  the  truth  and  kill 
him  or  I  would  come  up  with  him  and  have  my  revenge. 
In  any  case  he  was  outside  the  Kaffir  pale,  adventuring  on 
his  own. 

I  watched  the  two  till  they  halted  near  a  ruined  building. 
Surely  this  was  the  store  I  had  built  at  Umvelos'.  The 
thought  gave  me  a  horrid  surprise.  Laputa  and  Henriques 
were  on  their  way  to  the  Rooirand! 

I  woke  with  a  start  to  find  my  forehead  damp  with  sweat. 
There  was  some  fever  on  me,  I  think,  for  my  teeth  were 
chattering.  Very  clear  in  my  mind  was  the  disquieting 
thought  that  Laputa  and  Henriques  would  soon  be  in  the 
cave. 

One  of  two  things  must  happen:  either  Henriques  would 
kill  Laputa,  get  the  collar  of  rubies  and  be  in  the  wilds  of 
Mozambique  before  I  could  come  up  with  his  trail  j  or 
Laputa  would  outwit  him  and  have  the  handling  himself  of 
the  treasure  of  gold  and  diamonds  which  had  been  laid  up  for 
the  rising.    If  he  thought  there  was  a  risk  of  defeat  I  knew 


230  PRESTER  JOHN 

he  would  send  my  gems  to  the  bottom  of  the  Labongo, 
and  all  my  weary  work  would  go  for  nothing.  1  had  for- 
gotten all  about  patriotism.  In  that  hour  the  fate  of  the 
country  was  nothing  to  me  and  I  got  no  satisfaction  from 
the  thought  that  Laputa  was  severed  from  his  army.  My 
one  idea  was  that  the  treasure  would  be  lost,  the  treasure 
for  which  I  had  risked  my  life. 

There  is  a  kind  of  courage  which  springs  from  bitter 
anger  and  disappointment.  I  had  thought  that  I  had  bank- 
rupted my  spirit  but  I  found  that  there  was  a  new  passion 
in  me  to  which  my  past  sufferings  taught  no  lesson.  My 
uneasiness  would  not  let  me  rest  a  moment  longer.  I  rose 
to  my  feet  holding  on  by  the  bed,  and  staggered  to  the  tent 
pole.  I  was  weak  but  not  so  very  weak  that  I  could  not 
make  one  last  effort.  It  maddened  me  that  I  should  have 
done  so  much  and  yet  fail  at  the  end. 

From  a  nail  on  the  tent  pole  hung  a  fragment  of  looking- 
glass  which  Arcoll  used  for  shaving.  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  my  face  in  it,  white  and  haggard  and  lined  with  blue 
bags  below  the  eyes.  The  doctor  the  night  before  had 
sponged  it  but  he  had  not  got  rid  of  all  the  stains  of  travel. 
In  particular  there  was  a  faint  splash  of  blood  on  the  left 
temple.  I  remembered  that  this  was  what  I  had  got  from 
the  basin  of  goat's  blood  that  night  in  the  cave. 

I  think  that  the  sight  of  that  splash  determined  me. 
Whether  I  willed  it  or  not,  I  was  sealed  of  Laputa's  men. 
I  must  play  the  game  to  the  finish,  or  never  again  know 
peace  of  mind  on  earth.  These  last  four  days  had  made 
me  very  old. 


ARCOLL'S  SHEPHERDING  231 

I  found  a  pair  of  Arcoll's  boots,  roomy  with  much  wear- 
ing, into  which  I  thrust  my  bruised  feet.  Then  I  crawled 
to  the  door,  and  shouted  for  a  boy  to  bring  my  horse.  A 
Basuto  appeared,  and,  awed  by  my  appearance,  went  off 
in  a  hurry  to  see  to  the  schimmel.  It  was  late  afternoon, 
about  the  same  time  of  day  as  had  yesterday  seen  me  escap- 
ing from  Machudi's.  The  Bruderstroom  camp  was  empty, 
though  sentinels  were  posted  at  the  approaches.  I  beckoned 
the  only  white  man  I  saw  and  asked  where  Arcoll  was.  He 
told  me  that  he  had  no  news  but  added  that  the  patrols  were 
still  on  the  road  as  far  as  Wesselsburg.  From  this  I  gath- 
ered that  Arcoll  must  have  gone  far  out  into  the  bush  in  his 
chase.  I  did  not  want  to  see  him;  above  all,  I  did  not  want 
him  to  find  Laputa.  It  was  my  private  business  that  I  rode 
on  and  I  asked  for  no  allies. 

Somebody  brought  me  a  cup  of  thick  coffee,  which  I 
could  not  drink,  and  helped  me  into  the  saddle.  The 
schimmel  was  fresh  and  kicked  freely  as  I  cantered  off  the 
grass  into  the  dust  of  the  highroad.  The  whole  world,  I 
remember,  was  still  and  golden  in  the  sunset. 


CHAPTER  XX 

MY  LAST  SIGHT  OF  THE  REVEREND  JOHN  LAPUTA 

It  was  dark  before  I  got  into  the  gorge  of  the  Letaba.  I 
passed  many  patrols  but  few  spoke  to  me,  and  none  tried  to 
stop  me.  Some  may  have  known  me  but  I  think  it  was 
my  face  and  figure  which  tied  their  tongues.  I  must  have 
been  pale  as  death,  with  tangled  hair  and  fever  burning  in 
my  eyes.      Also  on  my  left  temple  was  the  splash  of  blood. 

At  Main  Drift  I  found  a  big  body  of  police  holding  the 
ford.  I  splashed  through  and  stumbled  into  one  of  their 
campfires.  A  man  questioned  me  and  told  me  that  Arcoll 
had  got  his  quarry.  "He's  dead,  they  say.  They  shot  him 
out  on  the  hills  when  he  was  making  for  the  Limpopo." 
But  I  knew  that  this  was  not  true.  It  was  burned  on  my 
mind  that  Laputa  was  alive,  nay,  was  waiting  for  me,  and 
that  it  was  God's  will  that  we  should  meet  in  the  cave. 

A  little  later  I  struck  the  track  of  the  Kaffirs'  march. 

There  was  a  broad,  trampled  way  through  the  bush  and  I 

followed  it,  for  it  led  to  Dupree's  Drift.      All  this  time  I 

was  urging  the  schlmmel  with  all  the  vigour  I  had  left  in 

me.      I  had  quite  lost  any  remnant  of  fear.     There  were  no 

terrors  left  for  me  either  from  Nature  or  man.      At  Dupree's 

Drift  I  rode  the  ford  without  a  thought  of  crocodiles.      I 

looked  placidly  at  the  spot  where  Henriques  had  slain  the 

Keeper  and  I  had  stolen  the  rubies.     There  was  no  inter- 

232 


LAST  SIGHT  OF  LAPUTA  233 

est  or  imagination  lingering  in  my  dull  brain.  My  nerves 
had  suddenly  become  things  of  stolid,  untempered  iron. 
Each  landmark  I  passed  was  noted  down  as  one  step  nearer 
to  my  object.  At  Umvelos'  I  had  not  the  leisure  to  do  more 
than  glance  at  the  shell  which  I  had  built.  I  think  I  had 
forgotten  all  about  that  night  when  I  lay  in  the  cellar  and 
heard  Laputa's  plans.  Indeed  my  doings  of  the  past  days 
were  all  hazy  and  trivial  in  my  mind.  I  only  saw  one  sight 
clearly — two  men,  one  tall  and  black,  the  other  little  and 
sallow,  slowly  creeping  nearer  to  the  Rooirand,  and  myself, 
a  midget  on  a  horse,  spurring  far  behind  through  the  bush 
on  their  trail.  I  saw  the  picture  as  continuously  and  clearly 
as  if  I  had  been  looking  at  a  scene  on  the  stage.  There  was 
only  one  change  in  the  settings  the  three  figures  seemed  to 
be  gradually  closing  together. 

I  had  no  exhilaration  in  my  quest.  I  do  not  think  I  had 
even  much  hope,  for  something  had  gone  numb  and  cold  in 
me  and  killed  my  youth.  I  told  myself  that  treasure  hunt- 
ing was  an  enterprise  accursed  of  God,  and  that  I  should  most 
likely  die.  That  Laputa  and  Henriques  would  die  I  was 
fully  certain.  The  three  of  us  would  leave  our  bones  to 
bleach  among  the  diamonds,  and  in  a  little  the  Prester's  collar 
would  glow  amid  a  heap  of  human  dust.  I  was  quite  con- 
vinced of  all  this  and  quite  apathetic.  It  really  did  not  mat- 
ter so  long  as  I  came  up  with  Laputa  and  Henriques  and 
settled  scores  with  them.  That  mattered  everything  in  the 
world,  for  it  was  my  destiny. 

I  had  no  means  of  knowing  how  long  I  took,  but  it  was 
after  midnight  before  I  passed  Umvelos^,  and  ere  I  got  to 
the  Rooirand  there  was  a  fluttering  of  dawn  in  the  east.     I 


234  PRESTER  JOHN 

must  have  passed  east  of  ArcolPs  men,  who  were  driving 
the  bush  towards  Majinje's.  I  had  ridden  the  night  down, 
and  did  not  feel  so  very  tired.  My  horse  was  stumbling 
but  my  own  limbs  scarcely  pained  me.  To  be  sure  I  was 
stiff  and  nerveless  as  if  hewn  out  of  wood,  but  I  had  been  as 
bad  when  I  left  Bruderstroom.  I  felt  as  if  I  could  go  on 
riding  to  the  end  of  the  world. 

At  the  brink  of  the  bush  I  dismounted  and  turned  the 
schimmel  loose.  I  had  brought  no  halter  and  I  left  him  to 
graze  and  roll.  The  light  was  sufficient  to  let  me  see  the 
great  rock  face  rising  in  a  tower  of  dim  purple.  The  sky 
was  still  picked  out  with  stars  but  the  moon  had  long  gone 
down,  and  the  east  was  flushing.  I  marched  up  the  path  to 
the  cave,  very  different  from  the  timid  being  who  had  walked 
the  same  road  three  nights  before.  Then  my  terrors  were 
all  to  come:  now  I  had  conquered  terror  and  seen  the  other 
side  of  fear.      I  was  centuries  older. 

But  beside  the  path  lay  something  which  made  me  pause. 
It  was  a  dead  body  and  the  head  was  turned  away  from  me. 
I  did  not  need  to  see  the  face  to  know  who  it  was.  There 
had  been  only  two  men  in  my  vision  and  one  of  them  was 
immortal. 

I  stopped  and  turned  the  body  over.  There  was  no  joy 
in  my  heart,  none  of  the  lust  of  satisfied  vengeance  or  slaked 
hate.  I  had  forgotten  about  the  killing  of  my  dog  and  all 
the  rest  of  Henriques'  doings.  It  was  only  with  curiosity 
that  I  looked  down  on  the  dead  face,  swollen  and  livid  in  the 
first  light  of  morning. 

The  man  had  been  strangled.  His  neck,  as  we  say  in 
Scotland,  was  "thrawn,"  and  that  was  why  he  had  lain  on 


LAST  SIGHT  OF  LAPUTA  235 

his  back  yet  with  his  face  turned  away  from  me.  He  had 
been  dead  probably  since  before  midnight.  I  looked  closer 
and  saw  that  there  was  blood  on  his  shirt  and  hands,  but  no 
wound.  It  was  not  his  blood  but  some  other's.  Then  a  few 
feet  off  on  the  path  I  found  a  pistol  with  two  chambers 
empty. 

What  had  happened  was  very  plain.  Henriques  had  tried 
to  shoot  Laputa  at  the  entrance  of  the  cave  for  the  sake  of 
the  collar  and  the  treasure  within.  He  had  wounded  him 
— gravely,  I  thought,  to  judge  from  the  amount  of  blood — 
but  the  quickness  and  markmanship  of  the  Portuguese  had 
not  availed  to  save  his  life  from  those  terrible  hands.  After 
two  shots  Laputa  had  got  hold  of  him  and  choked  his  life  out 
as  easily  as  a  man  twists  a  partridge's  neck.  Then  he  had 
gone  into  the  cave. 

I  saw  the  marks  of  blood  on  the  road  and  hastened  on. 
Laputa  had  been  hours  in  the  cave,  enough  to  work  havoc 
with  the  treasure.  He  was  wounded,  too,  and  desperate. 
Probably  he  had  come  to  the  Rooirand  looking  for  sanctuary 
and  rest  for  a  day  or  two,  but  if  Henriques  had  shot  straight 
he  might  find  a  safer  sanctuary  and  a  longer  rest.  For  the 
third  time  in  my  life  I  pushed  up  the  gully  between  the 
straight  high  walls  of  rock  and  heard  from  the  heart  of  the 
hills  the  thunder  of  the  imprisoned  river. 

There  was  only  the  faintest  gleam  of  light  in  the  cleft 
but  it  sufficed  to  show  me  that  the  way  to  the  cave  was  open. 
The  hidden  turnstile  in  the  right  wall  stood  ajar 5  I  entered 
and  carelessly  swung  it  behind  me.  The  gates  clashed  into 
place  with  a  finality  which  told  me  that  they  were  firmly 


236  PRESTER  JOHN 

shut.  I  did  not  know  the  secret  of  them,  so  how  should 
I  get  out  again? 

These  things  troubled  me  less  than  the  fact  that  I  had  no 
light  at  all  now.  I  had  to  go  on  my  knees  to  ascend  the 
stair  and  I  could  feel  that  the  steps  were  wet.  It  must  be 
Laputa's  blood. 

Next  I  was  out  on  the  gallery  which  skirted  the  chasm. 
The  sky  above  me  was  growing  pale  with  dawn  and  far  below 
the  tossing  waters  were  fretted  with  light.  A  light  fragrant 
wind  was  blowing  on  the  hills  and  a  breath  of  it  came  down 
the  funnel.  I  saw  that  my  hands  were  all  bloody  with  the 
stains  on  the  steps  and  I  rubbed  them  on  the  rock  to  clean 
them.  Without  a  tremor  I  crossed  the  stone  slab  over  the 
gorge  and  plunged  into  the  dark  alley  which  led  to  the  inner 
chamber. 

i\s  before,  there  was  a  light  in  front  of  me  but  this  time  it 
was  a  pinpoint  and  not  the  glare  of  many  torches.  I  felt 
my  way  carefully  by  the  walls  of  the  passage,  though  I  did 
not  really  fear  anything.  It  was  by  the  stopping  of  these 
lateral  walls  that  I  knew  I  was  in  the  cave,  for  the  place 
had  only  one  single  speck  of  light.  The  falling  wall  of 
water  stood  out  grey-green  and  ghostly  on  the  left,  and  I 
noticed  that  higher  up  it  was  lit  as  if  from  the  open  air. 
There  must  be  a  great  funnel  in  the  hillside  in  that  direction. 
I  walked  a  few  paces  and  then  I  made  out  that  the  spark 
in  front  was  a  lantern. 

My  eyes  were  getting  used  to  the  half  light,  and  I  saw 
what  was  beside  the  lantern.  Laputa  knelt  on  the  ashes 
of  the  fire  which  the  Keeper  had  kindled  three  days  before. 
He  knelt  before,  and  half  leaned  on,  a  rude  altar  of  stone. 


LAST  SIGHT  OF  LAPUTA  237 

The  lantern  stood  by  him  on  the  floor  and  its  faint  circle  lit 
something  which  I  was  not  unprepared  for.  Blood  was 
welling  from  his  side  and  spreading  in  a  dark  pool  over  the 
ashes. 

I  had  no  fear,  only  a  great  pity — pity  for  lost  romance, 
for  vain  endeavour,  for  fruitless  courage.  "Greeting, 
Inkulu! "  I  said  in  Kaffir,  as  if  I  had  been  one  of  his  indunas. 

He  turned  his  head  and  slowly  and  painfully  rose  to  his 
feet.  The  place,  it  was  clear,  was  lit  from  without,  and  the 
daylight  was  growing.  The  wall  of  the  river  had  become  a 
sheet  of  jewels,  passing  from  pellucid  diamond  above  to 
translucent  emerald  below.  A  dusky  twilight  sought  out 
the  extreme  corners  of  the  cave.  Laputa's  tall  figure  stood 
swaying  above  the  white  ashes,  his  hand  pressed  to  his  side. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  said,  looking  at  me  with  blind  eyes. 

"It  is  the  storekeeper  from  Umvelos',"  I  answered. 

"The  storekeeper  of  Umvelos',"  he  repeated.  "God  has 
used  the  weak  things  of  the  world  to  confound  the  strong. 
A  king  dies  because  a  peddlar  is  troublesome.  What  do  they 
call  you,  man?      You  deserve  to  be  remembered." 

I  told  him  "David  Crawfurd." 

"Crawfurd,"  he  repeated,  "you  have  been  the  little  reef 
on  which  a  great  vessel  has  foundered.  You  stole  the  collar 
and  cut  me  off  from  my  people,  and  then  when  I  was  weary 
the  Portuguese  killed  me." 

"No,"  I  cried,  "it  was  not  me.  You  trusted  Henriques, 
and  you  got  your  fingers  on  his  neck  too  late.  Don't  say  I 
didn't  warn  you." 

"You  warned  me,  and  I  will  repay  you.  I  will  make 
you  rich,  Crawfurd.     You  are  a  trader  and  want  money.     I 


238  PRESTER  JOHN 

am  a  king  and  want  a  throne.  But  I  am  dying,  and  there 
will  be  no  more  kings  in  Africa." 

The  mention  of  riches  did  not  thrill  me  as  I  had  expected, 
but  the  last  words  awakened  a  wild  regret.  I  was  hypno- 
tised by  the  man.  To  see  him  going  out  was  like  see  the 
fall  of  a  great  mountain. 

He  stretched  himself,  gasping,  and  in  the  growing  light 
I  could  see  how  broken  he  was.  His  cheeks  were  falling  in 
and  his  sombre  eyes  had  shrunk  back  in  their  sockets.  He 
seemed  an  old  worn  man  standing  there  among  the  ashes, 
while  the  blood,  which  he  made  no  effort  to  staunch,  trickled 
down  his  side  till  it  dripped  on  the  floor.  He  had  ceased 
to  be  the  Kaffir  king  or  the  Christian  minister  or  indeed  any 
one  of  his  former  parts.  Death  was  stripping  him  to  his 
elements,  and  the  man  Laputa  stood  out  beyond  and  above 
the  characters  he  had  played,  something  strange  and  great 
and  moving  and  terrible. 

"We  met  for  the  first  time  three  days  ago,"  he  said,  "and 
now  you  will  be  the  last  to  see  the  Inkulu." 

"Umvelos'  was  not  our  first  meeting,"  said  I.  "Do  you 
mind  the  Sabbath  eight  years  since  when  you  preached  in  the 
Free  Kirk  at  Kirkcaple?  I  was  the  boy  you  chased  from 
the  shore  and  I  flung  the  stone  that  blacked  your  eye.  Be- 
sides I  came  out  from  England  with  you  and  Henriques,  and 
I  was  in  the  boat  which  took  you  from  Durban  to  Delagoa 
Bay.    You  and  I  have  been  long  acquainted,  Mr.  Laputa." 

"It  is  the  hand  of  God,"  he  said  solemnly.  "Your  fate 
has  been  twisted  with  mine,  and  now  you  will  die  with  me." 

I  did  not  understand  this  talk  about  dying.  I  was  not 
mortally  wounded  like  him,  and  I  did  not  think  Laputa  had 


LAST  SIGHT  OF  LAPUTA  239 

the  strength  to  kill  me  even  if  he  wished.  But  my  mind  was 
so  impassive  that  I  scarcely  regarded  his  words. 

"I  will  make  you  rich,"  he  cried.  "Crawfurd,  the  store- 
keeper, will  be  the  richest  man  in  Africa.  We  are  scattered 
and  our  wealth  is  another's.  He  shall  have  the  gold  and 
the  diamonds — all  but  the  Collar,  which  goes  with  me." 

He  staggered  into  a  dark  recess,  one  of  many  in  the  cave, 
and  I  followed  him.  There  were  boxes  there,  tea  chests, 
cartridge  cases,  and  old  brass-ribbed  Portuguese  coffers. 
Laputa  had  keys  at  his  belt  and  unlocked  them,  his  fingers 
fumbling  with  weakness.  I  peered  in  and  saw  gold  coin 
and  little  bags  of  stones. 

"Money  and  diamonds,"  he  cried.  "Once  it  was  the  war 
chest  of  a  king,  and  now  it  will  be  the  hoard  of  a  trader. 
No,  by  the  Lord!  The  trader's  place  is  with  the  Terrible 
Ones."  An  arm  shot  out  and  my  shoulder  was  fiercely 
gripped. 

"You  stole  my  horse.  That  is  why  I  am  dying.  But  for 
you  I  and  my  army  would  be  over  the  Olifants.  I  am  going 
to  kill  you,  Crawf  urd,"  and  his  fingers  closed  in  to  my  shoul- 
der blades. 

Still  I  was  unperturbed.  "No,  you  are  not.  You  can- 
not. You  have  tried  to  and  failed.  So  did  Henriques,  and 
he  is  lying  dead  outside.  I  am  in  God's  keeping  and  cannot 
die  before  my  time." 

I  do  not  know  if  he  heard  me  but  at  any  rate  the  mur- 
derous fit  passed.  His  hand  fell  to  his  side  and  his  great 
figure  tottered  out  into  the  cave.  He  seemed  to  be  making 
for  the  river  but  he  turned  and  went  through  the  door  I 


240  PRESTER  JOHN 

had  entered  by.  I  heard  him  slipping  in  the  passage  and 
then  there  was  a  minute  of  silence. 

Suddenly  there  came  a  grinding  sound,  followed  by  the 
kind  of  muffled  splash  which  a  stone  makes  when  it  falls  into 
a  deep  well.  I  thought  Laputa  had  fallen  into  the  chasm, 
but  when  I  reached  the  door  his  swaying  figure  was  coming 
out  of  the  corridor.  Then  I  knew  what  he  had  done.  He 
had  used  the  remnant  of  his  giant  strength  to  break  down 
the  bridge  of  stone  across  the  gorge,  and  so  cut  off  my 
retreat. 

I  really  did  not  care.  Even  if  I  had  got  over  the  bridge 
I  should  probably  have  been  foiled  by  the  shut  turnstile.  I 
had  quite  forgotten  the  meaning  of  fear  of  death. 

I  found  myself  giving  my  arm  to  the  man  who  had  tried  to 
destroy  me. 

"I  have  laid  up  for  you  treasure  in  heaven,"  he  said. 
"Your  earthly  treasure  is  in  the  boxes  but  soon  you  will  be 
seeking  incorruptible  jewels  in  the  deep,  deep  water.  It  is 
cool  and  quiet  down  there  and  you  forget  the  hunger  and 
pain." 

The  man  was  getting  very  near  his  end.  The  madness 
of  despair  came  back  to  him  and  he  flung  himself  among 
the  ashes. 

"We  are  going  to  die  together,  Crawfurd,"  he  said.  "God 
has  twined  our  threads,  and  there  will  be  only  one  cutting. 
Tell  me  what  has  become  of  my  army." 

"Arcoll  has  guns  on  the  Wolkberg,"  I  said.  "They  must 
submit  or  perish." 

"I  have  other  armies  .  .   .   No,  no,  they  are  nothing. 


LAST  SIGHT  OF  LAPUTA  241 

They  will  all  wander  and  blunder  and  fight  and  be  beaten. 
There  is  no  leader  anywhere.   .   .   .   And  I  am  dying.'' 

There  was  no  gainsaying  the  signs  of  death.  I  asked  him 
if  he  would  like  water  but  he  made  no  answer.  His  eyes 
were  fixed  on  vacancy,  and  I  thought  I  could  realise  some- 
thing of  the  bitterness  of  that  great  regret.  For  myself  I 
was  as  cold  as  a  stone.  I  had  no  exultation  of  triumph,  still 
less  any  fear  of  my  own  fate.  I  stood  silent,  the  half- 
remorseful  spectator  of  a  fall  like  the  fall  of  Lucifer. 

"I  would  have  taught  the  world  wisdom.''  Laputa  was 
speaking  English  in  a  strange,  thin,  abstracted  voice.  "There 
would  have  been  no  king  like  me  since  Charlemagne,"  and 
he  strayed  into  Latin,  which  I  have  been  told  since  was  an 
adaptation  of  the  Epitaph  of  Charles  the  Great.  ^^Sub  hoc 
conditorio ^^  he  crooned,  ^'■situm  est  ^orptis  Joannis^  magni 
et  orthodoxi  Imperatoris^  qui  imperium  Africanum  nobiliter 
ampUavity  et  multos  per  amios  mundum  feliciter  rexit?'^  * 
He  must  have  chosen  this  epitaph  long  ago. 

He  lay  for  a  few  seconds  with  his  head  on  his  arms,  his 
breast  heaving  with  agony. 

"No  one  will  come  after  me.  My  race  is  doomed  and 
in  a  little  they  will  have  forgotten  my  name.  I  alone  could 
have  saved  them.  Now  they  go  the  way  of  the  rest  and 
the  warriors  of  John  become  drudges  and  slaves." 

Something  clicked  in  his  throat,  he  gasped  and  fell  for- 
ward, and  I  thought  he  was  dead.  Then  he  struggled  as 
if  to  rise.  I  ran  to  him  and  with  all  my  strength  aided  him 
to  his  feet. 

*  "Under  this  stone  is  laid  the  body  of  John,  the  great  and  orthodox  Emperor,  who 
nobly  enlarged  the  African  realm,  and  for  many  years  happily  ruled  the  world." 


242  PRESTER  JOHN 

"Unarm,  Eros ! "  he  cried.  "The  long  day's  task  is  done." 
With  the  strange  power  of  a  dying  man  he  tore  off  his 
leopard  skin  and  belt  till  he  stood  stark  as  on  the  night  when 
he  had  been  crowned.  From  his  pouch  he  took  the  Prester's 
Collar.  Then  he  staggered  to  the  brink  of  the  chasm  where 
the  wall  of  green  water  dropped  into  the  dark  depth  below. 

I  watched,  fascinated,  as  with  the  weak  hands  of  a  child 
he  twined  the  rubies  round  his  neck  and  joined  the  clasp. 
Then  with  a  last  effort  he  stood  straight  up  on  the  brink, 
his  eyes  raised  to  the  belt  of  daylight  from  which  the  water 
fell.  The  light  caught  the  great  gems  and  called  fires  from 
them,  the  flames  of  the  funeral  pyre  of  a  king. 

Once  more  his  voice,  restored  for  a  moment  to  its  old 
vigour,  rang  out  through  the  cave  above  the  din  of  the  cas- 
cade. His  words  were  those  which  the  Keeper  had  used 
three  nights  before.  With  his  hands  held  high  and  the 
Collar  burning  on  his  neck,  he  cried,  "The  Snake  returns  to 
the  House  of  its  Birth." 

"Come,"  he  cried  to  me.  "The  Heir  of  John  is  going 
home." 

Then  he  leapt  into  the  gulf.  There  was  no  sound  of  fall- 
ing, so  great  was  the  rush  of  water.  He  must  have  been 
whirled  into  the  open  below  where  the  bridge  used  to  be, 
and  then  swept  into  the  underground  deeps,  where  the 
Labongo  drowses  for  fifty  miles.  Far  from  human  quest,  he 
sleeps  his  last  sleep  and  perchance  on  a  fragment  of  bone 
washed  into  a  crevice  of  rock  there  may  hang  the  jewels  that 
once  gleamed  in  Sheba's  hair. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

I  CLIMB  THE  CRAGS  A  SECOND  TIME 

I  REMEMBER  that  I  looked  over  the  brink  into  the  yeasty 
abyss  with  a  mind  hovering  between  perplexity  and  tears. 
I  wanted  to  sit  down  and  cry — why,  I  did  not  know,  ex- 
cept that  some  great  thing  had  happened.  My  brain  was 
quite  clear  as  to  my  own  position.  I  was  shut  in  in  this 
place,  with  no  chance  of  escape  and  with  no  food.  In  a 
little  I  must  die  of  starvation  or  go  mad  and  throw  myself 
after  Laputa.  And  yet  I  did  not  care  a  rush.  My  nerves 
had  been  tried  too  greatly  in  the  past  week.  Now  I  was 
comatose  and  beyond  hoping  or  fearing. 

I  sat  for  a  long  time  watching  the  light  play  on  the  fretted 
sheet  of  water  and  wondering  where  Laputa's  body  had  gone. 
I  shivered  and  wished  he  had  not  left  me  alone,  for  the  dark- 
ness would  come  in  time  and  I  had  no  matches.  After  a 
little  I  got  tired  of  doing  nothing  and  went  groping  among 
the  treasure  chests.  One  or  two  were  full  of  coin — British 
sovereigns,  Kruger  sovereigns.  Napoleons,  Spanish  and 
Portuguese  gold  pieces,  and  many  older  coins  ranging  back 
to  the  middle  ages  and  even  to  the  ancients.  In  one  hand- 
ful there  was  a  splendid  gold  stater,  and  in  another  a  piece  of 
Antoninus  Pius.  The  treasure  had  been  collected  for  many 
years  in  many  places,  contributions  of  chiefs  from  ancient 
hoards  as  well  as  the  cash  received  from  I.D.B.     I  untied 

243 


244  PRESTER  JOHN 

one  or  two  of  the  little  bags  of  stones  and  poured  the  con- 
tents into  my  hands.  Most  of  the  diamonds  were  small, 
such  as  a  labourer  might  secrete  on  his  person.  The  larger 
ones — and  some  were  very  large — were  as  a  rule  discoloured, 
looking  more  like  big  cairngorms.  But  one  or  two  bags 
had  big  stones  which  even  my  inexperienced  eye  told  me 
were  of  the  purest  water.  There  must  be  some  new  pipe, 
I  thought,  for  these  could  not  have  been  stolen  from  any 
known  mine. 

After  that  I  sat  on  the  floor  again  and  looked  at  the  water. 
It  exercised  a  mesmeric  influence  on  me,  soothing  all  care. 
I  was  quite  happy  to  wait  for  death,  for  death  had  no  mean- 
ing to  me.  My  hate  and  fury  were  both  lulled  into  a  trance, 
since  the  passive  is  the  next  stage  to  the  overwrought. 

It  must  have  been  full  day  outside  now,  for  the  funnel 
was  bright  with  sunshine  and  even  the  dim  cave  caught  a 
reflected  radiance.  As  I  watched  the  river  I  saw  a  bird  flash 
downward,  skimming  the  water.  It  turned  into  the  cave 
and  fluttered  among  its  dark  recesses.  I  heard  its  wings 
beating  the  roof  as  it  sought  wildly  for  an  outlet.  It  dashed 
into  the  spray  of  the  cataract  and  escaped  again  into  the 
cave.  For  maybe  twenty  minutes  it  fluttered,  till  at  last  it 
found  the  way  it  had  entered  by.  With  a  dart  it  sped  up 
the  funnel  of  rock  into  light  and  freedom. 

I  had  begun  to  watch  the  bird  in  idle  lassitude,  I  ended 
in  keen  excitement.  The  sight  of  it  seemed  to  take  a  film 
from  my  eyes.  I  realised  the  zest  of  liberty,  the  passion  of 
life  again.  I  felt  that  beyond  this  dim  underworld  there  was 
the  great  joyous  earth,  and  I  longed  for  it.  I  wanted  to  live 
now.      My  memory  cleared  and  I  remembered  all  that  had 


I  CLIMB  THE  CRAGS  245 

befallen  me  during  the  last  few  days.  I  had  played  the 
chief  part  in  the  whole  business  and  I  had  won.  Laputa  was 
dead  and  the  treasure  was  mine,  while  Arcoll  was  crushing 
the  rising  at  his  ease.  I  had  only  to  be  free  again  to  be 
famous  and  rich.  My  hopes  had  returned,  but  with  them 
came  my  fears.  What  if  I  could  not  escape?  I  must  perish 
miserably  by  degrees,  shut  in  the  heart  of  a  hill,  though  my 
friends  were  out  for  rescue.  In  place  of  my  former  leth- 
argy I  was  now  in  a  fever  of  unrest. 

My  first  care  was  to  explore  the  way  I  had  come.  I  ran 
down  the  passage  to  the  chasm  which  the  slab  of  stone  had 
spanned.  I  had  been  right  in  my  guess,  for  the  thing  was 
gone.  Laputa  was  in  truth  a  Titan,  who  in  the  article  of 
death  could  break  down  a  bridge  which  would  have  taken 
any  three  men  an  hour  to  shift.  The  gorge  was  about  seven 
yards  wide,  too  far  to  risk  a  jump,  and  the  cliff  fell  sheer  and 
smooth  to  the  imprisoned  waters  two  hundred  feet  below. 
There  was  no  chance  of  circuiting  it,  for  the  wall  was  as 
smooth  as  if  it  had  been  chiselled.  The  hand  of  man  had 
been  at  work  to  make  the  sanctuary  inviolable. 

It  occurred  to  me  that  sooner  or  later  Arcoll  would  track 
Laputa  to  this  place.  He  would  find  the  bloodstains  in  the 
gully,  but  the  turnstile  would  be  shut  and  he  would  never 
find  the  trick  of  it.  Nor  could  he  have  any  Kaffirs  with  him 
who  knew  the  secret  of  the  Place  of  the  Snake.  Still  if 
Arcoll  knew  I  was  inside  he  would  find  some  way  to  get 
to  me  even  though  he  had  to  dynamite  the  curtain  of  rock. 
I  shouted  but  my  voice  seemed  to  be  drowned  in  the  roar 
of  the  water.  It  made  but  a  fresh  chord  in  the  wild  orches- 
tra and  I  gave  up  hopes  in  that  direction. 


246  PRESTER  JOHN 

Very  dolefully  I  returned  to  the  cave.  I  was  about  to 
share  the  experience  of  all  treasure  hunters — to  be  left  with 
jewels  galore  and  not  a  bite  to  sustain  life.  The  thing  was 
too  commonplace  to  be  endured.  I  grew  angry,  and  de- 
clined so  obvious  a  fate.  "Ek  sal'n  plan  maak,"  I  told  my- 
self in  the  old  Dutchman's  words.  I  had  come  through 
worse  dangers,  and  a  way  I  should  find.  To  starve  in  the 
cave  was  no  ending  for  David  Crawfurd.  Far  better  to 
join  Laputa  in  the  depths  in  a  manly  hazard  for  liberty. 

My  obstinacy  and  irritation  cheered  me.  What  had  be- 
come of  the  lacklustre  young  fool  who  had  mooned  here  a 
few  minutes  back?  Now  I  was  as  tense  and  strung  for 
effort  as  the  day  I  had  ridden  from  Blaauwildebeestefontein 
to  Umvelos'.  I  felt  like  a  runner  in  the  last  lap  of  the 
race.  For  four  days  I  had  lived  in  the  midst  of  terror  and 
darkness.  Daylight  was  only  a  few  steps  ahead,  daylight 
and  youth  restored  and  a  new  world. 

There  were  only  two  outlets  from  that  cave — the  way  I 
had  come  and  the  way  the  river  came.  The  first  was  closed, 
the  second  a  sheer  staring  impossibility.  I  had  been  into 
every  niche  and  cranny  and  there  was  no  sign  of  a  passage. 
I  sat  down  on  the  floor  and  looked  at  the  wall  of  water.  It 
fell,  as  I  have  already  explained,  in  a  solid  sheet,  which 
made  up  the  whole  of  the  wall  of  the  cave.  Higher  than 
the  roof  of  the  cave  I  could  not  see  what  happened,  except 
that  it  must  be  the  open  air  for  the  sun  was  shining  on  it. 
The  water  was  about  three  yards  distant  from  the  edge  of 
the  cave's  floor,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  high  up,  level  with 
the  roof,  this  distance  decreased  to  little  more  than  a  foot. 

I  could  not  see  what  the  walls  of  the  cave  were  like  but 


I  CLIMB  THE  CRAGS  247 

they  looked  smooth  and  difficult.  Supposing  I  managed  to 
climb  up  to  the  level  of  the  roof  close  to  the  water,  how  on 
earth  was  I  to  get  outside  on  to  the  wall  of  the  ravine?  I 
knew  from  my  old  days  of  rock  climbing  what  a  complete 
obstacle  the  overhang  of  a  cave  is. 

While  I  looked,  however,  I  saw  a  thing  which  I  had  not 
noticed  before.  On  the  left  side  of  the  fall  the  water 
sluiced  down  in  a  sheet  to  the  extreme  edge  of  the  cave, 
almost  sprinkling  the  floor  with  water.  But  on  the  right 
side  the  force  of  water  was  obviously  weaker,  and  a  little 
short  of  the  level  of  the  cave  roof  there  was  a  spike  of  rock 
which  slightly  broke  the  fall.  The  spike  was  covered,  but 
the  covering  was  shallow,  for  the  current  flowed  from  it 
in  a  rose-shaped  spray.  If  a  man  could  get  to  that  spike  and 
could  get  a  foot  on  it  without  being  swept  down,  it  might 
be  possible — just  possible — to  do  something  with  the  wall 
of  the  chasm  above  the  cave.  Of  course  I  knew  nothing 
about  the  nature  of  that  wall.  It  might  be  as  smooth  as  a 
polished  pillar. 

The  result  of  these  cogitations  was  that  I  decided  to 
prospect  the  right  wall  of  the  cave  close  to  the  waterfall. 
But  first  I  went  rummaging  in  the  back  part  to  see  if  I  could 
find  anything  to  assist  me.  In  one  corner  there  was  a  rude 
cupboard  with  some  stone  and  metal  vessels.  Here  too  were 
the  few  domestic  utensils  of  the  dead  Keeper.  In  another 
were  several  locked  coflFers  on  which  I  could  make  no  impres- 
sion. There  were  the  treasure-chests  too  but  they  held 
nothing  save  treasure,  and  gold  and  diamonds  were  no  man- 
ner of  use  to  me.     Other  odds  and  ends  I  found — spears,  a 


248  PRESTER  JOHN 

few  skins,  and  a  broken  and  notched  axe.      I  took  the  axe 
in  case  there  might  be  cutting  to  do. 

Then  at  the  back  of  a  bin  my  hand  struck  something  which 
brought  the  blood  to  my  face.  It  was  a  rope,  an  old  one, 
but  still  in  fair  condition  and  forty  or  fifty  feet  long.  I 
dragged  it  out  into  the  light  and  straightened  its  kinks. 
With  this  something  could  be  done,  assuming  I  could  cut  my 
way  to  the  level  of  the  roof. 

I  began  the  climb  in  my  bare  feet,  and  at  the  beginning 
it  was  very  bad.  Except  on  the  very  edge  of  the  abyss  there 
was  scarcely  a  handhold.  Possibly  in  floods  the  waters  may 
have  swept  the  wall  in  a  curve,  smoothing  down  the  inner 
part  and  leaving  the  outer  to  its  natural  roughness.  There 
was  one  place  where  I  had  to  hang  on  by  a  very  narrow  crack 
while  I  scraped  with  the  axe  a  hollow  for  my  right  foot. 
And  then  about  twelve  feet  from  the  ground  I  struck  the 
first  of  the  iron  pegs. 

To  this  day  I  cannot  think  what  these  pegs  were  for. 
They  were  old  squareheaded  things  which  had  seen  the  wear 
of  centuries.  They  cannot  have  been  meant  to  assist  a 
climber,  for  the  dwellers  of  the  cave  had  clearly  never  con- 
templated this  means  of  egress.  Perhaps  they  had  been 
used  for  some  kind  of  ceremonial  curtain  in  a  dim  past. 
They  were  rusty  and  frail  and  one  of  them  came  away  in 
my  hand,  but  for  all  that  they  marvellously  assisted  my 
ascent. 

I  had  been  climbing  slowly,  doggedly  and  carefully,  my 
mind  wholly  occupied  with  the  task;  and  almost  before  I 
knew  I  found  my  head  close  under  the  roof  of  the  cave.  It 
was  necessary  now  to  move  towards  the  river  and  the  task 


I  CLIMB  THE  CRAGS  249 

seemed  impossible.  I  could  see  no  footholds  save  two  frail 
pegs,  and  in  the  corner  between  the  wall  and  the  roof  was 
a  rough  arch  too  wide  for  my  body  to  jam  itself  in.  Just 
below  the  level  of  the  roof — say  two  feet — I  saw  the  sub- 
merged spike  of  rock.  The  waters  raged  around  it  and 
could  not  have  been  more  than  an  inch  deep  on  the  top. 
If  I  could  only  get  my  foot  on  that  I  believed  I  could  avoid 
being  swept  down  and  stand  up  and  reach  for  the  wall  above 
the  cave. 

But  how  to  get  to  it.?  It  was  no  good  delaying  for  my 
frail  holds  might  give  at  any  moment.  In  any  case  I  would 
have  the  moral  security  of  the  rope,  so  I  passed  it  through  a 
fairly  staunch  pin  close  to  the  roof,  which  had  an  upward 
tilt  that  almost  made  a  ring  of  it.  One  end  of  the  rope  was 
round  my  body,  the  other  was  loose  in  my  hand,  and  I  paid 
it  out  as  I  moved.  Moral  support  is  something.  Very 
gingerly  I  crawled  like  a  fly  along  the  wall,  my  fingers  now 
clutching  at  a  tiny  knob,  now  clawing  at  a  crack  which  did 
little  more  than  hold  my  nails.  It  was  all  hopeless  insanity 
and  yet  somehow  I  did  it.  The  rope  and  the  nearness  of 
the  roof  gave  me  confidence  and  balance. 

Then  the  holds  ceased  altogether  a  couple  of  yards  from 
the  water.  I  saw  my  spike  of  rock  a  trifle  below  me. 
There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  risk  all  on  a  jump.  I  drew 
the  rope  out  of  the  hitch,  twined  the  slack  round  my  waist, 
and  leaped  for  the  spike. 

It  was  like  throwing  oneself  on  a  line  of  spears.  The 
solid  wall  of  water  hurled  me  back  and  down,  but  as  I  fell 
my  arms  closed  on  the  spike.  There  I  hung  while  my  feet 
were  towed  outwards  by  the  volume  of  the  stream  as  if  they 


250  PRESTER  JOHN 

had  been  dead  leaves.  I  was  half  stunned  by  the  shock  of 
the  drip  on  my  head,  but  I  kept  my  wits  and  presently  got 
my  face  outside  the  falling  sheet  and  breathed. 

To  get  to  my  feet  and  stand  on  the  spike  while  all  the 
fury  of  water  was  plucking  at  me  was  the  hardest  physical 
effort  I  have  ever  made.  It  had  to  be  done  very  circum- 
spectly, for  a  slip  would  send  me  into  the  abyss.  If  I  moved 
an  arm  or  leg  an  inch  too  near  the  terrible  dropping  wall  I 
knew  I  should  be  plucked  from  my  hold.  I  got  my  knees 
on  the  outer  face  of  the  spike  so  that  all  my  body  was  re- 
moved as  far  as  possible  from  the  impact  of  the  water. 
Then  I  began  to  pull  myself  slowly  up. 

I  could  not  do  it.  If  I  got  my  feet  on  the  rock  the  effort 
would  bring  me  too  far  into  the  water,  and  that  meant 
destruction.  I  saw  this  clearly  in  a  second  while  my  wrists 
were  cracking  with  the  strain.  But  if  I  had  a  wall  behind 
me  I  could  reach  back  with  one  hand  and  get  what  we  call 
in  Scotland  a  "stell."  I  knew  there  was  a  wall,  but  how  far 
I  could  not  judge.  The  perpetual  hammering  of  the  stream 
had  confused  my  wits. 

It  was  a  horrible  moment  but  I  had  to  risk  it.  I  knew 
that  if  the  wall  was  too  far  back  I  should  fall,  for  I  had  to 
let  my  weight  go  till  my  hand  fell  on  it.  Delay  would  do 
no  good,  so  with  a  prayer  I  flung  my  right  hand  back  while 
my  left  hand  clutched  the  spike. 

I  found  the  wall — it  was  only  a  foot  or  two  beyond  my 
reach.  With  a  heave  I  had  my  foot  on  the  spike,  and  turn- 
ing, had  both  hands  on  the  opposite  wall.  There  I  stood, 
straddling  like  a  Colossus  over  a  waste  of  white  waters, 


^' 


THERE  I  STOOD,    KTRADDLINc;    1,1  Kh;   A   COLOSSUS    OVER  A  WASTE  OF 
WHITE  WATERS,    WITH  THE  CAVE  FLOOR  FAR  BELOW  ME. 


I  CLIMB  THE  CRAGS  251 

with  the  cave  floor  far  below  me  in  the  gloom  and  my 
discarded  axe  lying  close  to  a  splash  of  Laputa's  blood. 

The  spectacle  made  me  giddy  and  I  had  to  move  on  or 
fall.  The  wall  was  not  quite  perpendicular,  but  as  far  as 
I  could  see  a  slope  of  about  sixty  degrees.  It  was  ribbed  and 
terraced  pretty  fully,  but  I  could  see  no  ledge  within  reach 
which  offered  standing  room.  Once  more  I  tried  the  moral 
support  of  the  rope,  and  as  well  as  I  could  dropped  a  noose 
on  the  spike  which  might  hold  me  if  I  fell.  Then  I  boldly 
embarked  on  a  hand  traverse,  pulling  myself  along  a  little 
ledge  till  I  was  right  in  the  angle  of  the  fall.  Here,  hap- 
pily, the  water  was  shallower  and  less  violent,  and  with  my 
legs  up  to  the  knees  in  foam  I  managed  to  scramble  into  a 
kind  of  corner.  Now  at  last  I  was  on  the  wall  of  the  gully 
and  above  the  cave.  I  had  achieved  by  amazing  luck  one 
of  the  most  difficult  of  all  mountaineering  operations.  I 
had  got  out  of  a  cave  to  the  wall  above. 

My  troubles  were  by  no  means  over  for  I  found  the  cliff 
most  difficult  to  climb.  The  great  rush  of  the  stream  dizzied 
my  brain,  the  spray  made  the  rock  damp,  and  the  slope  steep- 
ened as  I  advanced.  At  one  overhang  my  shoulder  was 
almost  in  the  water  again.  All  this  time  I  was  climbing 
doggedly,  with  terror  somewhere  in  my  soul  and  hope  light- 
ing but  a  feeble  lamp.  I  was  very  distrustful  of  my  body 
for  I  knew  that  at  any  moment  my  weakness  might  return. 
The  fever  of  three  days  of  peril  and  stress  is  not  allayed  by 
one  night's  rest. 

By  this  time  I  was  high  enough  to  see  that  the  river  came 
out  of  the  ground  about  fifty  feet  short  of  the  lip  of  the 
gully  and  some  ten  feet  beyond  where  I  stood.     Above  the 


252  PRESTER  JOHN 

hole  whence  the  waters  issued  was  a  loose  slope  of  slabs 
and  screes.  It  looked  an  ugly  place,  but  there  I  must  go, 
for  the  rock  wall  I  was  on  was  getting  unscalable. 

I  turned  the  corner  a  foot  or  two  above  the  water  and 
stood  on  a  slope  of  about  fifty  degrees,  running  from  the  para- 
pet of  stone  to  a  line  beyond  which  blue  sky  appeared.  At 
the  first  step  I  took  the  place  began  to  move.  A  boulder 
crashed  into  the  fall  and  tore  down  into  the  abyss  with  a 
shattering  thunder.  I  lay  flat  and  clutched  desperately  at 
every  hold  but  I  had  loosened  an  avalanche  of  earth,  and  not 
till  my  feet  were  sprayed  by  the  water  did  I  get  a  grip  of 
firm  rock  and  check  my  descent.  All  this  frightened  me 
horribly  with  the  kind  of  despairing  angry  fear  which  I 
had  suffered  at  Bruderstroom,  when  I  dreamed  that  the 
treasure  was  lost.  I  could  not  bear  the  notion  of  death  when 
I  had  won  so  far. 

After  that  I  advanced,  not  by  steps,  but  by  inches.  I 
felt  more  poised  and  pinnacled  in  the  void  than  when  I  had 
stood  on  the  spike  of  rock,  for  I  had  a  substantial  hold 
neither  for  foot  nor  hand.  It  seemed  weeks  before  I  made 
any  progress  away  from  the  lip  of  the  waterhole.  I  dared 
not  look  down  but  kept  my  eyes  on  the  slope  before  me, 
searching  for  any  patch  of  ground  which  promised  stability. 
Once  I  found  a  scrog  of  juniper  with  firm  roots  and  this 
gave  me  a  a  great  lift.  A  little  further,  however,  I  lit  on  a 
bank  of  screes  which  slipped  with  me  to  the  right,  and  I 
lost  most  of  the  ground  the  bush  had  gained  me.  My  whole 
being,  I  remember,  was  filled  with  a  devouring  passion  to 
be  quit  of  this  gully  and  all  that  was  in  it. 

Then,  not  suddenly  as  in  romances  but  after  hard  striv- 


I  CLIMB  THE  CRAGS  253 

ing  and  hope  long  deferred,  I  found  myself  on  a  firm  out- 
crop of  weathered  stone.  In  three  strides  I  was  on  the  edge 
of  the  plateau.  Then  I  began  to  run  and  at  the  same  time 
to  lose  the  power  of  running.  I  cast  one  look  behind  me, 
and  saw  a  deep  cleft  of  darkness  out  of  which  I  had  climbed. 
Down  in  the  cave  it  had  seemed  light  enough  but  in  the 
clear  sunshine  of  the  top  of  the  gorge  looked  a  very  pit  of 
shade.  For  the  first  and  last  time  in  my  life  I  had  vertigo. 
Fear  of  falling  back  and  a  mad  craze  to  do  it  made  me 
acutely  sick.  I  managed  to  stumble  a  few  steps  forward  on 
the  mountain  turf  and  then  flung  myself  on  my  face. 

When  I  raised  my  head  I  was  amazed  to  find  it  still  early 
morning.  The  dew  was  yet  on  the  grass  and  the  sun  was  not 
far  up  the  sky.  I  had  thought  that  my  entry  into  the  cave, 
my  time  in  it  and  my  escape  had  taken  many  hours,  whereas 
at  the  most  they  had  occupied  two.  It  was  little  more  than 
dawn,  such  a  dawn  as  walks  only  on  the  hilltops.  Before 
me  was  the  shallow  vale  with  its  bracken  and  sweet  grass 
and  the  shining  links  of  the  stream  and  the  loch  still  grey 
in  the  shadow  of  the  beleaguering  hills.  Here  was  a  fresh, 
clean  land,  a  land  for  homesteads  and  orchards  and  children. 
All  of  a  sudden  I  realised  that  at  last  I  had  come  out  of 
savagery. 

The  burden  of  the  past  days  slipped  from  my  shoulders. 
I  felt  young  again,  and  cheerful  and  brave.  Behind  me 
was  the  black  night  and  the  horrid  secrets  of  darkness.  Be- 
fore me  was  my  own  country,  for  that  loch  and  that  bracken 
might  have  been  on  a  Scotch  moor.  The  fresh  scent  of  the 
air  and  the  whole  morning  mystery  put  song  into  my  blood. 
I  remembered  that  I  was  not  yet  twenty. 


254  PRESTER  JOHN 

My  first  care  was  to  kneel  there  among  the  bracken  and 
give  thanks  to  my  Maker,  who  in  very  truth  had  shown  me 
"His  goodness  in  the  land  of  the  living." 

After  a  little  I  went  back  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff.  There 
where  the  road  came  out  of  the  bush  was  the  body  of  Hen- 
riques,  lying  scrawled  on  the  sand,  with  two  dismounted 
riders  looking  hard  at  it.  I  gave  a  great  shout,  for  in  the 
men  I  recognised  Aitken  and  the  schoolmaster  Wardlaw. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A  GREAT  PERIL  AND  A  GREAT  SALVATION 

I  MUST  now  take  up  some  of  the  ragged  ends  which  I  have 
left  behind  me.  It  is  not  my  task,  as  I  have  said,  to  write 
the  history  of  the  great  Rising.  That  has  been  done  by 
abler  men  who  were  at  the  centre  of  the  business,  and  had 
some  knowledge  of  strategy  and  tactics j  whereas  I  was  only 
a  raw  lad  who  was  privileged  by  fate  to  see  the  start.  If  I 
could,  I  would  fain  make  an  epic  of  it  and  show  how  the 
Plains  found  at  all  points  the  Plateau  guarded,  how  wits 
overcame  numbers,  and  at  every  pass  which  the  natives 
tried  the  great  guns  spoke  and  the  tide  rolled  back.  Yet  I 
fear  it  would  be  an  epic  without  a  hero.  There  was  no 
leader  left  when  Laputa  had  gone.  There  were  months 
of  guerrilla  fighting  and  then  months  of  reprisals,  when  chief 
after  chief  was  hunted  down  and  brought  to  trial.  Then 
the  amnesty  came  and  a  clean  sheet  and  white  Africa  drew 
breath  again  with  certain  grave  reflections  left  in  her  head. 
On  the  whole  I  am  not  sorry  that  the  history  is  no  business 
of  mine.  Romance  died  with  "the  heir  of  John"  and  the 
crusade  became  a  sorry  mutiny.  I  can  fancy  how  differ- 
ently Laputa  would  have  managed  it  all  had  he  lived;  how 
swift  and  sudden  his  plans  would  have  been;  how  under 
him  the  fighting  would  not  have  been  in  the  mountain 
glens,  but  far  in  the  high-veld  among  the  dorps  and  town- 

255 


256  PRESTER  JOHN 

ships.  With  the  Inkulu  alive  we  warred  against  oddsj 
with  the  Inkulu  dead  the  balance  sank  heavily  in  our  favour. 
I  leave  to  others  the  marches  and  strategy  of  the  thing  and 
hasten  to  clear  up  the  obscure  parts  in  my  own  fortunes. 
Arcoll  receive  my  message  from  Umvelos'  by  Colin,  or 
rather  Wardlaw  received  it  and  sent  it  on  to  the  post  on  the 
Berg  where  the  leader  had  gone.  Close  on  its  heels  came 
the  message  from  Henriques  by  a  Shangaan  in  his  pay.  It 
must  have  been  sent  off  before  the  Portugoose  got  to  the 
Rooirand,  from  which  it  would  appear  that  he  had  his  own 
men  in  the  bush  near  the  store  and  that  I  was  lucky  to  get 
off  as  I  did.  Arcoll  might  have  disregarded  Henriques' 
news  as  a  trap  if  it  had  come  alone  but  my  corroboration 
impressed  and  perplexed  him.  He  began  to  credit  the 
Portugoose  with  treachery  but  he  had  no  inclination  to  act 
on  his  message,  since  it  conflicted  with  his  plans.  He  knew 
that  Laputa  must  come  into  the  Berg  sooner  or  later  and 
he  had  resolved  that  his  strategy  must  be  to  await  him  there. 
But  there  was  the  question  of  my  life.  He  had  every  rea- 
son to  believe  that  I  was  in  the  greatest  danger  and  he  felt 
a  certain  responsibility  for  my  fate.  With  the  few  men  at 
his  disposal  he  could  not  hope  to  hold  up  the  great  Kaffir 
army  but  there  was  a  chance  that  he  might  by  a  bold  stand 
effect  my  rescue.  Henriques  had  told  him  of  the  vow  and 
had  told  him  that  Laputa  would  ride  in  the  centre  of  the 
force.  A  body  of  men  well  posted  at  Dupree's  Drift  might 
split  the  army  at  the  crossing  and  under  cover  of  the  fire  I 
might  swim  the  river  and  join  my  friends.  Still  relying  on 
the  vow,  it  might  be  possible  for  well-mounted  men  to  evade 
capture.     Accordingly  he  called  for  volunteers  and  sent  off 


A  GREAT  PERIL  257 

one  of  his  Kaffirs  to  warn  me  of  his  design.  He  led  his  men 
in  person  and  of  his  doings  the  reader  already  knows  the  tale. 
But  though  the  crossing  was  flung  into  confusion  and  the  rear 
of  the  army  was  compelled  to  follow  the  northerly  bank  of 
the  Letaba,  there  was  no  sign  of  me  anywhere.  Arcoll 
seached  the  river-banks,  and  crossed  the  drift  to  where  the 
old  Keeper  was  lying  dead.  He  then  concluded  that  I  had 
been  murdered  early  in  the  march  and  his  Kaffir,  who  might 
have  given  him  news  of  me,  was  carried  up  the  stream  in  the 
tide  of  the  disorderly  army.  Therefore,  he  and  his  men  rode 
back  with  all  haste  to  the  Berg  by  way  of  Main  Drift  and 
reached  Bruderstroom  before  Laputa  had  crossed  the 
highway. 

My  information  about  Inanda's  Kraal  decided  ArcolPs 
next  move.  Like  me  he  remembered  Beyers's  performance, 
and  resolved  to  repeat  it.  He  had  no  hope  of  catching 
Laputa  but  he  thought  he  might  hold  up  the  bulk  of  his 
force  if  he  got  guns  on  the  ridge  above  the  kraal.  A  mes- 
sage had  already  been  sent  for  guns  and  the  first  to  arrive 
got  to  Bruderstroom  about  the  hour  when  I  was  being  taken 
by  Machudi's  men  in  the  kloof.  The  ceremony  of  the 
purification  prevented  Laputa  from  keeping  a  good  lookout, 
and  the  result  was  that  a  way  was  made  for  the  guns  on 
the  northwestern  corner  of  the  rampart  of  rock.  It  was  the 
way  which  Beyers  had  taken,  and  indeed  the  enterprise  was 
directed  by  one  of  Beyers's  old  commandants.  All  that  day 
the  work  continued  while  Laputa  and  I  were  travelling  to 
Machudi's.  Then  came  the  evening  when  I  staggered  into 
camp  and  told  my  news.  Arcoll,  who  alone  knew  how  vital 
Laputa  was  to  the  success  of  the  insurrection,  immediately 


258  PRESTER  JOHN 

decided  to  suspend  all  other  operations  and  devote  himself 
to  shepherding  the  leader  away  from  his  army.  How  the 
scheme  succeeded  and  what  befell  of  Laputa  the  reader  has 
already  been  told. 

Aitken  and  Wardlaw,  when  I  descended  from  the  cliffs, 
took  me  straight  to  Blaauwildebeestefontein.  I  was  like  a 
man  who  is  recovering  from  bad  fever,  cured  but  weak  and 
foolish,  and  it  was  a  slow  journey  which  I  made  to  Umvelos', 
riding  on  Aitken's  pony.  At  Umvelos'  we  found  a  picket 
who  had  captured  the  schlmmel  by  the  roadside.  That  wise 
beast,  when  I  turned  him  loose  at  the  entrance  to  the  cave, 
had  trotted  quietly  back  the  way  he  had  come.  At  Umvelos' 
Aitken  left  me  and  next  day,  with  Wardlaw  as  companion, 
I  rode  up  the  glen  of  the  Klein  Labongo  and  came  in  the 
afternoon  to  my  old  home.  The  store  was  empty,  for  Japp 
some  days  before  had  gone  off  posthaste  to  Pietersdorpj  but 
there  was  Zeeta  cleaning  up  the  place  as  if  war  had  never 
been  heard  of.  I  slept  the  night  there,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing found  myself  so  much  recovered  that  I  was  eager  to 
get  away.  I  wanted  to  see  Arcoll  rbout  many  things,  but 
mainly  about  the  treasure  in  the  cave. 

It  was  an  easy  journey  to  Bruderstroom  through  the 
meadows  of  the  plateau.  The  farmers'  commandoes  had 
been  recalled,  but  the  ashes  of  their  camp-fires  were  still  grey 
among  the  bracken.  I  fell  in  with  a  police  patrol  and  was 
taken  by  them  to  a  spot  on  the  Upper  Letaba,  some  miles 
west  of  the  camp,  where  we  found  Arcoll  at  late  breakfast. 
I  had  resolved  to  take  him  into  my  confidence,  so  I  told 
him  the  full  tale  of  my  night's  adventure.      He  was  very 


A  GREAT  PERIL  259 

severe  with  me,  I  remember,  for  my  daft-like  ride,  but  his 
severity  relaxed  before  I  had  done  with  my  story. 

The  telling  brought  back  the  scene  to  me  and  I  shivered 
at  the  picture  of  the  cave  with  the  morning  breaking  through 
the  veil  of  water  and  Laputa  in  his  death  throes.  Arcoll 
did  not  speak  for  some  time. 

"So  he  is  dead,"  he  said  at  last,  half  whispering  to  him- 
self. "Well,  he  was  a  king,  and  died  like  a  king.  Our 
job  now  is  simple,  for  there  is  none  of  his  breed  left  in 
Africa." 

Then  I  told  him  of  the  treasure. 

"It  belongs  to  you,  Davie,"  he  said,  "and  we  must  see  that 
you  get  it.  This  is  going  to  be  a  long  war  but  if  we  survive 
to  the  end  you  will  be  a  rich  man." 

"But  in  the  meantime?"  I  asked.  "Supposing  other 
Kaffirs  hear  of  it,  and  come  back  and  make  a  bridge  over  the 
gorge?      They  may  be  doing  it  now." 

"I'll  put  a  guard  on  it,"  he  said,  jumping  up  briskly.  "It's 
maybe  not  a  soldier's  job  but  you've  saved  this  country,  Davie, 
and  I'm  going  to  make  sure  that  you  have  your  reward." 

After  that  I  went  with  Arcoll  to  Inanda's  Kraal.  I  am 
not  going  to  tell  the  story  of  that  performance,  for  it  oc- 
cupies no  less  than  two  chapters  in  Mr.  Upton's  book.  He 
makes  one  or  two  blunders,  for  he  spells  my  name  with  an 
"o,"  and  he  says  we  walked  out  of  the  camp  on  our  perilous 
mission  "with  faces  white  and  set  as  a  Crusader's."  That 
is  certainly  not  true,  for  in  the  first  place  nobody  saw  us  go 
who  could  judge  how  we  looked,  and  in  the  second  place 
we  were  both  smoking  and  feeling  quite  cheerful.     At  home 


260  PRESTER  JOHN 

they  made  a  great  fuss  about  it  and  started  a  newspaper  cry 
about  the  Victoria  Cross,  but  the  danger  was  not  so  terrible 
after  all,  and  in  any  case  it  was  nothing  to  what  I  had  been 
through  in  the  past  week. 

I  take  credit  to  myself  for  suggesting  the  idea.  By  this 
time  we  had  the  army  in  the  kraal  at  our  mercy.  Laputa 
not  having  returned,  they  had  no  plans.  It  had  been  the 
original  intention  to  start  for  the  Olifants  on  the  following 
day,  so  there  was  a  scanty  supply  of  food.  Besides,  there 
were  the  makings  of  a  pretty  quarrel  between  Umbooni  and 
some  of  the  north-country  chiefs,  and  I  verily  believe  that 
if  we  had  held  them  tight  there  for  a  week  they  would 
have  destroyed  each  other  in  faction  fights.  In  any  case, 
in  a  little  they  would  have  grown  desperate  and  tried  to 
rush  the  approaches  on  the  north  and  south.  Then  we 
must  either  have  used  the  guns  on  them,  which  would  have 
meant  a  great  slaughter,  or  let  them  go  to  do  mischief  else- 
where. Arcoll  was  a  merciful  man  who  had  no  love  for 
butchery  j  besides,  he  was  a  statesman  with  an  eye  to  the 
future  of  the  country  after  the  war.  But  it  was  his  duty  to 
isolate  Laputa's  army,  and  at  all  costs  it  must  be  prevented 
from  joining  any  of  the  concentrations  in  the  south. 

Then  I  proposed  to  him  to  do  as  Rhodes  did  in  the  Matop- 
pos,  and  go  and  talk  to  them.  By  this  time,  I  argued,  the 
influence  of  Laputa  must  have  sunk  and  the  fervour  of  the 
purification  be  half  forgotten.  The  army  had  little  food 
and  no  leader.  The  rank  and  file  had  never  been  fanatical 
and  the  chiefs  and  indunas  must  now  be  inclined  to  sober 
reflections.      But  once  blood  was  shed,  the  lust  of  blood 


A  GREAT  PERIL  261 

would  possess  them.  Our  only  chance  was  to  strike  when 
their  minds  were  perplexed  and  undecided. 

Arcoll  did  all  the  arranging.  He  had  a  message  sent  to 
the  chiefs  inviting  them  to  an  indaba,  and  presently  word 
was  brought  back  that  an  indaba  was  called  for  the  next  day 
at  noon.  That  same  night  we  heard  that  Umbooni  and 
about  twenty  of  his  men  had  managed  to  evade  our  ring  of 
scouts  and  got  clear  away  to  the  south.  This  was  all  to 
our  advantage,  as  it  removed  from  the  coming  indaba  the 
most  irreconcilable  of  the  chiefs. 

That  indaba  was  a  queer  business.  Arcoll  and  I  left  our 
escort  at  the  foot  of  a  ravine  and  entered  the  kraal  by  the 
same  road  as  I  had  left  it.  It  was  a  very  bright,  hot  winter's 
day,  and  try  as  I  might  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  think 
of  any  danger.  I  believe  that  in  this  way  most  temerarious 
deeds  are  donej  the  doer  has  become  insensible  to  danger  and 
his  imagination  is  clouded  with  some  engrossing  purpose. 
The  first  sentries  received  us  gloomily  enough  and  closed 
behind  us  as  they  had  done  when  Machudi's  men  haled  me 
thither.  Then  the  job  became  eerie,  for  we  had  to  walk 
across  a  green  flat  with  thousands  of  eyes  watching  us.  By 
and  by  we  came  to  the  merula  tree  opposite  the  kyas  and 
there  we  found  a  ring  of  chiefs,  sitting  with  cocked  rifles 
on  their  knees. 

We  were  armed  with  pistols  and  the  first  thing  Arcoll  did 
was  to  hand  them  to  one  of  the  chiefs. 

"We  come  in  peace,"  he  said.     "We  give  you  our  lives." 

Then  the  indaba  began,  Arcoll  leading  off.  It  was  a  fine 
speech  he  made,  one  of  the  finest  I  have  ever  listened  to. 
He  asked  them  what  their  grievances  were;  he  told  them 


262  PRESTER  JOHN 

how  mighty  was  the  power  of  the  white  man;  he  promised 
that  what  was  unjust  should  be  remedied,  if  only  they  would 
speak  honestly  and  peacefully  j  he  harped  on  their  old  legends 
and  songs,  claiming  for  the  king  of  England  the  right  of 
their  old  monarchs.  It  was  a  fine  speech  and  yet  I  saw  that 
it  did  not  convince  them.  They  listened  moodily,  if  atten- 
tively, and  at  the  end  there  was  a  blank  silence. 

Arcoll  turned  to  me.  "For  God's  sake,  Davie,"  he  said, 
"talk  to  them  about  Laputa.      It's  our  only  chance." 

I  had  never  tried  speaking  before,  and  though  I  talked 
their  tongue  I  had  not  ArcolPs  gift  of  it.  But  I  felt  that  a 
great  cause  was  at  stake  and  I  spoke  up  as  best  I  could. 

I  began  by  saying  that  Inkulu  had  been  my  friend,  and 
that  at  Umvelos'  before  the  rising  he  had  tried  to  save  my 
life.  At  the  mention  of  the  name  I  saw  eyes  brighten.  At 
last  the  audience  was  hanging  on  my  words. 

I  told  them  of  Henriques  and  his  treachery.  I  told  them 
frankly  and  fairly  of  the  doings  at  Dupree's  Drift.  I  made 
no  secret  of  the  part  I  played.  "I  was  fighting  for  my  life," 
I  said.  "Any  man  of  you  who  is  a  man  would  have  done 
the  like." 

Then  I  told  them  of  my  last  ride  and  the  sight  I  saw  at 
the  foot  of  the  Rooirand.  I  drew  a  picture  of  Henriques 
lying  dead  with  a  broken  neck  and  the  Inkulu,  wounded  to 
death,  creeping  into  the  cave. 

In  moments  of  extremity  I  suppose  every  man  becomes  an 
orator.  In  that  hour  and  place  I  discovered  gifts  I  had 
never  dreamed  of.  Arcoll  told  me  afterwards  that  I  had 
spoken  like  a  man  inspired,  and  by  a  fortunate  chance  had 
hit  upon  the  only  way  to  move  my  hearers.      I  told  of  that 


A  GREAT  PERIL  263 

last  scene  in  the  cave,  when  Laputa  had  broken  down  the 
bridge  and  had  spoken  his  dying  words — that  he  was  the  last 
king  in  Africa  and  that  without  him  the  rising  was  at  an 
end.  Then  I  told  of  his  leap  into  the  river  and  a  great  sigh 
went  up  from  the  ranks  about  me. 

"You  see  me  here,"  I  said,  "by  the  grace  of  God.  I 
found  a  way  up  the  fall  and  the  cliffs  which  no  man  has 
ever  travelled  before  or  will  travel  again.  Your  king  is 
dead.  He  was  a  great  king,  as  I  who  stand  here  bear  wit- 
ness, and  you  will  never  more  see  his  like.  His  last  words 
were  that  the  rising  was  over.  Respect  that  word,  my 
brothers.  We  come  to  you  not  in  war  but  in  peace,  to  offer 
you  a  free  pardon  and  the  redress  of  your  wrongs.  If  you 
fight  you  fight  with  the  certainty  of  failure  and  against  the 
wish  of  the  heir  of  John.  I  have  come  here  at  the  risk  of 
my  life  to  tell  you  his  commands.  His  spirit  approves  my 
mission.  Think  well  before  you  defy  the  mandate  of  the 
Snake  and  risk  the  vengeance  of  the  Terrible  Ones.'' 

After  that  I  knew  that  we  had  won.  The  chiefs  talked 
among  themselves  in  low  whispers,  casting  strange  looks 
at  me.  Then  the  greatest  of  them  advanced  and  laid  his 
rifle  at  my  feet. 

"We  believe  the  word  of  a  brave  man,"  he  said.  "We 
accept  the  mandate  of  the  Snake." 

Arcoll  now  took  command.  He  arranged  for  the  dis- 
armament bit  by  bit,  companies  of  men  being  marched  off 
from  Inanda's  Kraal  to  stations  on  the  plateau  where  their 
arms  were  collected  by  our  troops  and  food  provided  for 
them.  For  the  full  history  I  refer  the  reader  to  Mr.  Upton's 
work.      It  took  many  days  and  taxed  all  our  resources,  but 


264  PRESTER  JOHN 

by  the  end  of  the  week  we  had  the  whole  of  Laputa's  army 
in  separate  stations,  under  guard,  disarmed,  and  awaiting 
repatriation. 

Then  ArcoU  went  south  to  the  war  which  was  to  rage 
around  the  Swaziland  and  Zululand  borders  for  many 
months,  while  to  Aitken  and  myself  was  entrusted  the  work 
of  settlement.  We  had  inadequate  troops  at  our  command, 
and  but  for  our  prestige  and  the  weight  of  Laputa's  dead 
hand  there  might  any  moment  have  been  a  tragedy.  The 
task  took  months,  for  many  of  the  levies  came  from  the  far 
north,  and  the  job  of  feeding  troops  on  a  long  journey  was 
difficult  enough  in  the  winter  season  when  the  energies  of 
the  country  were  occupied  with  the  fighting  in  the  south. 
Yet  it  was  an  experience  for  which  I  shall  ever  be  grateful, 
for  it  turned  me  from  a  rash  boy  into  a  serious  man.  I  knew 
then  the  meaning  of  the  white  man's  duty.  He  has  to  take 
all  risks,  recking  nothing  of  his  life  or  his  fortunes  and  well 
content  to  find  his  reward  in  the  fulfilment  of  his  task. 
That  is  the  difference  between  white  and  black,  the  gift  of 
responsibility,  the  power  of  being  in  a  little  way  a  kingj  and 
so  long  as  we  know  this  and  practise  it,  we  will  rule  not  in 
Africa  alone  but  wherever  there  are  dark  men  who  live  only 
for  the  day  and  their  own  bellies.  Moreover  the  work  made 
me  pitiful  and  kindly.  I  learned  much  of  the  untold  griev- 
ances of  the  natives  and  saw  something  of  their  strange, 
twisted  reasoning.  Before  we  had  got  Laputa's  army  back 
to  their  kraals,  with  food  enough  to  tide  them  over  the  spring 
sowing,  Aitken  and  I  had  got  sounder  policy  in  our  heads 
than  you  will  find  in  the  towns,  where  men  sit  in  offices  and 
see  the  world  through  a  mist  of  papers. 


A  GREAT  PERIL  265 

By  this  time  peace  was  at  hand  and  I  went  back  to  Inanda's 
Kraal  to  look  for  Colin's  grave.  It  was  not  a  difficult  quest, 
for  on  the  sward  in  front  of  the  merula  tree  they  had  buried 
him.  I  found  a  mason  in  the  Iron  Kranz  village,  and  from 
the  excellent  red  stone  of  the  neighbourhood  was  hewn  a 
square  slab  with  an  inscription.  It  ran  thus:  "Here  lies 
buried  the  dog  Colin,  who  was  killed  in  defending  D.  Craw- 
furd,  his  master.  To  him  it  was  mainly  due  that  the  Kaffir 
Rising  failed."  I  leave  those  who  have  read  my  tale  to  see 
the  justice  of  the  words. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

MY  uncle's  gift  IS   MANY    TIMES    MULTIPLIED 

We  got  at  the  treasure  by  blowing  open  the  turnstile.  It 
was  easy  enough  to  trace  the  spot  in  the  rock  where  it  stood, 
but  the  most  patient  search  did  not  reveal  its  secret.  Ac- 
cordingly we  had  recourse  to  dynamite,  and  soon  laid  bare 
the  stone  steps  and  ascended  to  the  gallery.  The  chasm  was 
bridged  with  planks  and  Arcoll  and  I  crossed  alone.  The 
cave  was  as  I  had  left  it.  The  bloodstains  on  the  floor  had 
grown  dark  with  time  but  the  ashes  of  the  sacramental  fire 
were  still  there  to  remind  me  of  the  drama  I  had  borne  a 
part  in.  When  I  looked  at  the  way  I  had  escaped  my  brain 
grew  dizzy  at  the  thought  of  it.  I  do  not  think  that  all  the 
gold  on  earth  would  have  driven  me  a  second  time  to  that 
awful  escalade.  As  for  Arcoll,  he  could  not  see  its  possi- 
bility at  all. 

"Only  a  madman  could  have  done  it,"  he  said,  blinking 
his  eyes  at  the  green  linn.  "Indeed,  Davie,  I  think  for 
about  four  days  you  were  as  mad  as  they  make.  It  was  a 
fortunate  thing,  for  your  madness  saved  the  country.'' 

With  some  labour  we  got  the  treasure  down  to  the  path, 
and  took  it  under  strong  guard  to  Pietersdorp.  The  Govern- 
ment were  busy  with  the  settling  up  after  the  war,  and  it 
took  many  weeks  to  have  our  business  disposed  of.      At  first 

things  looked  badly  for  me.     The  Attorney  General  set  up 

266 


UNCLE'S  GIFT  MULTIPLIED  267 

a  claim  to  the  whole  as  spoils  of  war  since,  he  argued,  it  was 
the  war  chest  of  the  enemy  we  had  conquered.  I  do  not 
know  how  the  matter  would  have  gone  on  legal  grounds, 
though  I  was  advised  by  my  lawyers  that  the  claim  was  a 
bad  one.  But  the  part  I  had  played  in  the  whole  business, 
more  especially  in  the  visit  to  Inanda's  Kraal,  had  made  me 
a  kind  of  popular  hero,  and  the  Government  thought  better 
of  their  first  attitude.  Besides,  ArcoU  had  great  influence, 
and  the  whole  story  of  my  doings,  which  was  told  privately 
by  him  to  some  of  the  members  of  the  Government,  disposed 
them  to  be  generous.  Accordingly  they  agreed  to  treat  the 
contents  of  the  cave  as  ordinary  treasure  trove,  of  which 
by  the  law,  one  half  went  to  the  discoverer  and  one  half 
to  the  Crown. 

This  was  well  enough  so  far  as  the  gold  was  concerned, 
but  another  difficulty  arose  about  the  diamonds  j  for  a  large 
part  of  these  had  obviously  been  stolen  by  labourers  from 
the  mines  and  the  mining  people  laid  claim  to  them  as  stolen 
goods.  I  was  advised  not  to  dispute  this  claim  and  conse- 
quently we  had  a  great  sorting  out  of  the  stones  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  experts  of  the  different  mines.  In  the  end  it 
turned  out  that  identification  was  not  an  easy  matter,  for  the 
experts  quarrelled  furiously  among  themselves.  A  compro- 
mise was  at  last  come  to  and  a  division  made;  and  then  the 
diamond  companies  behaved  very  handsomely,  voting  me  a 
substantial  sum  in  recognition  of  my  services  in  recovering 
their  property.  What  with  this  and  with  my  half  share 
of  the  gold  and  my  share  of  the  unclaimed  stones,  I  found 
that  I  had  a  very  considerable  fortune.  The  whole  of  my 
stones  I  sold  to  De  Beers,  for  if  I  had  placed  them  on  the 


268  PRESTER  JOHN 

open  market  I  should  have  upset  the  delicate  equipoise  of 
diamond  values.  When  I  came  finally  to  cast  up  my  ac- 
counts, I  found  that  I  had  secured  a  fortune  of  a  trifle  over 
a  quarter  of  a  million  pounds. 

The  wealth  did  not  dazzle  so  much  as  it  solemnised  me. 
I  had  no  impulse  to  spend  any  part  of  it  in  a  riot  of  folly. 
It  had  come  to  me  like  fairy  gold  out  of  the  voidj  it  had 
been  bought  with  men's  blood,  almost  with  my  own.  I 
wanted  to  get  away  to  a  quiet  place  and  think,  for  of  late  my 
life  had  been  too  crowded  with  drama,  and  there  comes  a 
satiety  of  action  as  well  as  of  idleness.  Above  all  things  I 
wanted  to  get  home.  They  gave  me  a  great  send-off,  and 
sang  songs,  and  good  fellows  shook  my  hand  till  it  ached. 
The  papers  were  full  of  me  and  there  were  a  banquet  and 
speeches.  But  I  could  not  relish  this  glory  as  I  ought,  for 
I  was  like  a  boy  thrown  violently  out  of  his  bearings. 

Not  till  I  was  nearing  Cape  Town  in  the  train  did  I  re- 
cover my  equanimity.  The  burden  of  the  past  seemed  to 
slip  from  me  suddenly  as  on  the  morning  when  I  had  climbed 
the  linn.  I  saw  my  life  all  lying  before  mej  and  already  I 
had  won  success.  I  thought  of  my  return  to  my  own  coun- 
try, my  first  sight  of  the  grey  shores  of  Fife,  my  visit  to 
Kirkcaple,  my  meeting  with  my  mother.  I  was  a  rich  man 
now  who  could  choose  his  career,  and  my  mother  need  never 
again  want  for  comfort.  My  money  seemed  pleasant  to  me, 
for  if  other  men  won  theirs  by  brains  or  industry,  I  had  won 
mine  by  sterner  methods,  for  I  had  staked  against  it  my  life. 
I  sat  alone  in  the  railway  carriage  and  cried  with  pure  thank- 
fulness. These  were  comforting  tears,  for  they  brought  me 
back  to  my  old  commonplace  self. 


UNCLE'S  GIFT  MULTIPLIED  269 

My  last  memory  of  Africa  is  my  meeting  with  Tam  Dyke. 
I  caught  sight  of  him  in  the  streets  of  Cape  Town  and  run- 
ning after  him,  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder.  He  stared 
at  me  as  if  he  had  seen  a  ghost. 

"Is  it  yourself,  Davie?"  he  cried.  "I  never  looked  to 
see  you  again  in  this  world.  I  do  nothing  but  read  about 
you  in  the  papers.  What  for  did  ye  not  send  for  me?  Here 
have  I  been  knocking  about  inside  a  ship  and  you  have  been 
getting  famous.     They  tell  me  you're  a  millionaire,  too." 

I  had  Tam  to  dinner  at  my  hotel  and,  later,  sitting  smok- 
ing on  the  terrace  and  watching  the  flying-ants  among  the 
aloes,  I  told  him  the  better  part  of  the  story  I  have  here 
written  down. 

"Man,  Davie,"  he  said  at  the  end,  "youVe  had  a  tre- 
mendous time.  Here  are  you  not  eighteen  months  away 
from  home,  and  you're  going  back  with  a  fortune.  What 
will  you  do  with  it?" 

I  told  him  that  I  proposed,  to  begin  with,  to  finish  my  edu- 
cation at  Edinburgh  College.  At  this  he  roared  with 
laughter. 

"That's  a  dull  ending,  anyway.  It's  me  that  should 
have  the  money,  for  I'm  full  of  imagination.  You  were 
aye  a  prosaic  body,  Davie." 

"Maybe  I  am,"  I  saidj  "but  I  am  very  sure  of  one  thing. 
If  I  hadn't  been  a  prosaic  body,  I  wouldn't  be  sitting  here 
tonight." 

Two  years  later  Aitken  found  the  diamond  pipe,  which 
he  had  always  believed  lay  in  the  mountains.  Some  of  the 
stones  in  the  cave,  being  unlike  any  ordinary  African  dia- 


270  PRESTER  JOHN 

monds,  confirmed  his  suspicions  and  set  him  on  the  track. 
A  Kaffir  tribe  to  the  northeast  of  the  Rooirand  had  known 
of  it,  but  they  had  never  worked  it,  but  only  collected  the 
overspill.  The  closing  down  of  one  of  the  chief  existing 
mines  had  created  a  shortage  of  diamonds  in  the  world^s 
markets,  and  once  again  the  position  was  the  same  as  when 
Kimberley  began.  Accordingly  he  made  a  great  fortune, 
and  today  the  Aitken  Proprietary  Mine  is  one  of  the  most 
famous  in  the  country.  But  Aitken  did  more  than  mine 
diamonds,  for  he  had  not  forgotten  the  lesson  we  had  learned 
together  in  the  work  of  resettlement.  He  laid  down  a  big 
fund  for  the  education  and  amelioration  of  the  native  races, 
and  the  first  fruit  of  it  was  the  establishment  at  Blaauwilde- 
beestefontein  itself  of  a  great  native  training  college.  It 
was  no  factory  for  making  missionaries  and  black  teachers, 
but  an  institution  for  giving  the  Kaffirs  the  kind  of  training 
which  fits  them  to  be  good  citizens  of  the  state.  There  you 
will  find  every  kind  of  technical  workshop  and  the  finest 
experimental  farms,  where  the  blacks  are  taught  modern 
agriculture.  They  have  proved  themselves  apt  pupils,  and 
today  you  will  see  in  the  glens  of  the  Berg  and  in  the  plains 
Kaffir  tillage  which  is  as  scientific  as  any  in  Africa.  They 
have  created  a  huge  export  trade  in  tobacco  and  fruit  j  the 
cotton  promises  well ;  and  there  is  talk  of  a  new  fibre  which 
will  do  wonders.  Also  along  the  river  bottoms  the  india 
rubber  business  is  prospering. 

There  are  playing  fields  and  baths  and  reading  rooms  and 
libraries  just  as  in  a  school  at  home.  In  front  of  the  great 
hall  of  the  college  a  statue  stands,  the  figure  of  a  black  man 
shading  his  eyes  with  his  hands  and  looking  far  over  the 


UNCLE'S  GIFT  MULTIPLIED  271 

plains  to  the  Rooirand.  On  the  pedestal  it  is  lettered 
"Prester  John/'  but  the  face  is  the  face  of  Laputa.  So  the 
last  of  the  kings  of  Africa  does  not  lack  his  monument. 

Of  this  institution  Mr.  Wardlaw  is  the  head.  He  writes 
to  me  weekly,  for  I  am  one  of  the  governors  as  well  as  an  old 
friend,  and  from  a  recent  letter  I  take  this  passage: — 

"I  often  cast  my  mind  back  to  the  afternoon  when  you 
and  I  sat  on  the  stoep  of  the  schoolhouse  and  talked  of  the 
Kaffirs  and  our  future.  I  had  about  a  dozen  pupils  then 
and  now  I  have  nearly  three  thousand  j  and  in  place  of  a  tin- 
roofed  shanty  and  a  yard,  I  have  a  whole  countryside.  You 
laughed  at  me  for  my  keenness,  Davie,  but  I've  seen  it  justi- 
fied. I  was  never  a  man  of  war  like  you,  and  so  I  had 
to  bide  at  home  while  you  and  your  like  were  straightening 
out  the  troubles.  But  when  it  was  all  over  my  job  began, 
for  I  could  do  what  you  couldn't  do — I  was  the  physician  to 
heal  wounds.  You  mind  how  nervous  I  was  when  I  heard 
the  drums  beat.  I  hear  them  every  evening  now,  for  we 
have  made  a  rule  that  all  the  Kaffir  farms  on  the  Berg  sound 
a  kind  of  curfew.  It  reminds  me  of  old  times  and  tells 
me  that  though  it  is  peace  nowadays  we  mean  to  keep  all  the 
manhood  in  them  that  they  used  to  exercise  in  war.  It 
would  do  your  eyes  good  to  see  the  garden  we  have  made 
out  of  the  Klein  Labongo  glen.  The  place  is  one  big  orchard 
with  every  kind  of  tropical  fruit  in  it,  and  the  irrigation  dam 
is  as  full  of  fish  as  it  will  hold.  Out  at  Umvelos'  there  is 
a  tobacco  factory,  and  all  round  Sikitola's  we  have  square 
miles  of  mealie  and  cotton  fields.  The  loch  on  the  Rooirand 
is  stocked  with  Lochleven  trout,  and  we  have  made  a  bridle 
path  up  to  it  in  a  gully  east  of  the  one  you  climbed.     You 


272  PRESTER  JOHN 

asked  about  Machudi's.  The  last  time  I  was  there  the 
place  was  white  with  sheep,  for  we  have  got  the  edge  of  the 
plateau  grazed  down  and  sheep  can  get  the  short  bite  there. 
We  have  cleaned  up  all  the  kraals,  and  the  chiefs  are  mem- 
bers of  our  county  council  and  are  as  fond  of  hearing  their 
own  voices  as  an  Aberdeen  bailie.  It's  a  queer  transforma- 
tion we  have  wrought,  and  when  I  sit  and  smoke  my  pipe  in 
the  evening  and  look  over  the  plains  and  then  at  the  big 
black  statue  you  and  Aitken  set  up,  I  thank  the  Providence 
that  has  guided  me  so  far.  I  hope  and  trust  that,  in  the 
Bible  words,  ^the  wilderness  and  the  solitary  place  are  glad 
for  us.'  At  any  rate  it  will  not  be  my  fault  if  they  don't 
^blossom  as  the  rose.'  Come  out  and  visit  us  soon,  man,  and 
see  the  work  you  had  a  hand  in  starting.   .   .   ." 

I  am  thinking  seriously  of  taking  Wardlaw's  advice. 


THE    END 


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